


A Widow's Bite

by Casiosiris294



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Action, Fluff, Mystery, Romance, Suspense, spider tw, very mild blood tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casiosiris294/pseuds/Casiosiris294
Summary: Two months have passed since Marianne and the Bog King fell in love, finally putting an end to the tensions between their kingdoms and ushering in an era of peace. But when the ruler of a mysterious new land reaches out to the newly united kingdoms, will the struggles of solidifying a new alliance take a toll on relationships so recently mended and forged—especially when their new allies are much more than what they seem?





	1. Chapter 1

“Princess, look out!” 

The cry was muffled by the whistle of Marianne’s blade as it sliced through the air, but served to draw her gaze upward just in time to dodge the flurry of legs and sharpened claws that whizzed over her head. She let out a huff of exertion as her wings pressed flat to her sides, allowing her to weave between the barrage of spider legs that came at her from every direction at once. 

Despite all her training, fighting a spider was more difficult than she’d thought. Its speed had already proven frustrating; Marianne was supposed to be the distraction, but it was difficult to keep its attention when it moved so fast she could barely keep up. 

Shouts from behind the creature drew the attention of both combatants. The spider whirled with an enraged screech, beady eyes landing on where Guard Captain Alastair worked to free the pair of royal guards who’d been cocooned in the spider’s webbing. What it had planned to do with the them, Marianne didn’t know, but none of them wanted to find out. 

As the spider charged back towards Alastair, Marianne flew overhead, pushing her wings as hard as she could, wind roaring in her ears until she swooped down in its path and cut off its charge. “Oh, no you don’t!” she cried, whipping her wings open to their full span not an inch from its face. The vibrant purple backlit by the sun was enough to distract the arachnid from the person freeing its meal. Its black, furry legs swung haphazardly, disoriented by the flash of color. 

The successful tactic brought a smirk to her lips. Her gaze focused on blocking the spider’s attacks, the brunette shouted to the Captain over her shoulder, “Not that this isn’t fun and all, but anytime now!”

“Yes, Princess!” Alastair’s breathless response was interspersed with grunts and curses as he tore at the sticky web, but somehow still possessed a signature bit of sarcasm. With the spider distracted he’d managed to free the guards’s heads, but they were still immobilized by the cocoons from the neck down. “It’d be a lot easier if the thing hadn’t thrown my sword into the river, but I’m going as fast as I can!” 

“Try less cursing, more pulling!” 

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, Marianne could feel his exasperated gaze searing holes in her back. “Genius as always, Your Highness.” 

A grin cracked her features as she dove beneath another attack. The spider’s shrieks splintered the air like shattering wood as she drove it back with each block and parry. Combined with the metallic clang of her blade, the battle produced a high-pitched cacophony so grating that Marianne had to resist covering her ears. Her teeth grit together and her ears buzzed. 

The spider was getting angrier—they had to finish this quickly.

In the blink of an eye it lunged forward, dual pincers snapping wildly and aiming straight for the princess’s head. Its movements were lightning fast, but Marianne managed to throw up her sword at the last second, the spider colliding with the barrier with a resounding _thud._ It pushed against her, trying to drive her backwards, but she held firm, furiously flapping her wings to keep from being bowled over. 

“I don’t think it’s happy you’re trying to steal its lunch!”

For a moment an unintelligible sound of frustration was the Captain’s only response. “It’s too thick! I can’t tear through it with just my hands!” 

Brown eyes chanced a momentary glance over her shoulder. The Captain’s gauntlets were covered in the white silk. But, rather than tearing as he pulled at the globs that obscured one guard’s shoulders, the tacky substance only stretched before shrinking back to its original place as soon as he let go. Marianne groaned, but he was right: at this rate, her strength would give out before that silk. 

A bead of sweat traveled down her temple as she returned her focus to the spider trying to snap her head off. Saliva dripped from its pincers, coating her hand that braced against the blunt side of her blade. She had an idea—it was crazy, but it was also the only thing she could think of. At least if it failed, she wouldn’t have to worry about the Captain or her father lecturing her. 

There’d be no use in reprimanding her to be careful if she was dead. 

It was times like this where the countless hours Marianne spent training truly paid off. Her arms ached from the force of the spider pushing against her, but, even more powerful than her body’s strength, the force of her wings staved it off. Each flap held more power than most fairies could boast of; it was likely the only thing keeping her matched with the animal’s wild strength. 

With a strained cry and a powerful shove, Marianne disengaged herself from the beast, flying forward before it could recover and slamming the hilt of her sword into its head. It roared in pain and reared backwards, but Marianne took advantage of the distraction and spun towards Alastair. A hasty “heads up!” was all the warning she gave as she threw her sword his way. 

He caught it effortlessly, just as she’d known he would. Strangely empty, her hands flexed into fists at her sides, the bite of blunt nails digging into her palms joining the thrum of adrenaline in her veins. Unfortunately the landed blow wasn’t as effective as she’d hoped. The spider recovered quickly, letting out a shriek that reverberated down her spine. 

It jumped at her, eight powerful legs propelling it through the air. A gasp tore from her throat as she lurched backwards to escape the trap of its claw-tipped limbs. Sounds of her blade hacking through silk and the guards’s relieved shouts prickled on the edge of her awareness. 

At least Alastair was breaking through. She’d angered the spider even more and left herself without a weapon, but it was working. 

All she had to do was avoid being eaten long enough for the soldiers to be freed. Easy. 

Normally there was a sort of rhythm to battle. Regardless of the creature, if Marianne paid enough attention to its movements, the speed of attack became predictable—not necessarily revealing a pattern, but a consistent tempo, as if the two fighters were partners in a dance. She’d trained herself to notice that rhythm. To use it against her opponent by forcing them off count, attacking on an off beat. When they inevitably couldn’t regain their rhythm, it led to their defeat.   

But the spider’s attacks were completely erratic. Eight black blurs came at her from all directions almost faster than she could react; she was completely on the defensive, her breaths coming in harsh gulps as she dodged and evaded so frenetically that her wings nearly tangled from the effort. Rivulets of sweat threatened to cloud her vision. Her limbs grew heavy as constant weaving and dodging sapped her strength. 

A claw grazed her shoulder, leaving an angry gash in its wake. The princess grit her teeth against the pain, her wince swallowed by the spider’s continual screeching. It took all of her concentration to keep out of the spider’s reach without moving too far and exposing where Alastair worked behind her, but she knew she couldn’t last much longer—not without a weapon. She couldn’t dodge forever. 

Despite her better judgement she flicked her gaze over her shoulder. “Get them out! _Now!_ ” she cried. Exhaustion frayed her voice around the edges. Thankfully, she saw that one soldier was free, using his own blade to help shred the cocoon around his comrade. 

“Almost—” but the Captain cut himself off with a triumphant shout. “Ha! That’s it! They’re free!” 

“About time! Get ready!” 

She didn’t need to wait for him to respond to know he understood. Turning her full attention back to the arachnid just as it lunged forwards again, she knew that it moved too quickly for her to dodge in time. Instead, Marianne crossed her arms in front of her face and braced herself for the impact. The moment the spider’s head slammed into her arms she gave a few supplementary flaps before retracting her wings, folding them flat to her back and letting the momentum of the blow propel her backwards towards where Alastair held out her sword. Pain throbbed along her forearms like a second heartbeat, but it was easily ignored.

In one fluid motion, Marianne dove, snatched her weapon from Alastair’s outstretched hand, and flung herself back towards the snarling spider with one powerful flap. Features pinched, a battle cry exploded from her lips as she weaved between the storm of pincers and flailing legs. Wings drawn close, she sped beneath the spider’s body. The blade of her sword pointed firmly out to one side. 

A shrill screech of pain pierced the air as she emerged from behind the spider. Instantly spinning around, her shoulders heaved as she watched it crumple. Crimson blood oozed from gashes in the legs on its right side. Unable to fully support itself, the beast’s uninjured limbs scrabbled at the dirt, the horrible scraping sound blending with its continual, ear-splitting wails. 

A solemn hush fell over the quartet of fairies who watched the animal’s suffering. Alighting on the ground a short distance away, Marianne’s lips pressed into a thin line, her free hand clenching into a tight fist. It was out of a sense of respect that she looked away. Brown eyes dropped to the ground at her feet, her brows furrowing as she listened to its cries. 

This was the hardest part of battle. Not the grueling hours of training; not the aches and scars and calloused hands. For all intents and purposes, Marianne was a warrior. She fought in defense of her people and those she loved, with all her strength and without hesitation, whenever it was necessary. But that didn’t mean she enjoyed inflicting such pain. Though she refused to deal the finishing blow, they all knew that such an injury made any hope for the spider’s survival slim at best. Marianne wouldn’t butcher the creature, but it would likely die from the wounds she inflicted to protect her own. The spider’s fractured howls were a reminder that even though she used her blade for the benefit of her kingdom, for the protection of her family, there would always be a cost. And it was a cost she paid with a stone-face and solemn heart. 

She wouldn’t remember the spider as it was now: fleeing into the brush at an agonizingly slow pace, leaving behind a trail of red, its battle cries devolved into what almost sounded like sobs. No, she would remember it as it truly was: fierce and wild. 

And, most of all, a fellow warrior deserving of her respect. 

Only once the tortured sounds of the fleeing creature faded completely did the princess force her gaze upward. Absently she tuned into the conversation happening a few paces away, where Captain Alastair was helping the pair of soldiers to their feet. Catching sight of the streak of red coating one edge of her blade, Marianne wrinkled her nose and snatched a leaf off the ground as she made her way to the other fairies. 

“Everyone okay?” she asked as she came to stand beside the trio. Exhaustion still gripped her muscles, forcing her to lean her weight onto one leg and rest the tip of her sword against the dirt.  

“Thanks to you, Your Highness,” Alastair responded. The tiniest upward quirk of one corner of his lips was as close to a smile as she’d ever seen him manage. “They’re rattled, but unharmed.”

Indeed, the soldiers were out of breath, one with arms pressed firmly to his sides as if he was still trapped in the cocoon, and the other bent with his hands braced on his knees. Their armor was covered in stray wisps of silk and a milky residue. 

“We...are indebted to you...Your Highness,” the guard who was hunched over managed through heaving breaths. As he spoke he moved to stand up straight, but from the way his expression tightened, she could tell that the motion was a strain. A moment of silence passed, as if he was waiting for something, before he elbowed his companion in the side, eyes wide with expectation and flicking between the other man and Marianne.  

Almost as if the blow snapped him out of a trance, the guard closest to her abruptly snapped his head to look at her, the hands pressed to his sides clenching and unclenching at an erratic pace. The slightest bit of tension melted from his shoulders with the motion, but the display made her think that deeming them to be “unharmed” might be premature. He was clearly in shock. “Yes,” he started, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse, “thank you, Princess.”

Seemingly just as concerned with their behavior, Alastair stepped between them, one arm herding them in the direction of the castle. “Why don’t you head back to the castle and get some rest.” The tone of his voice made it obvious it wasn’t a suggestion. “Take some time, get cleaned up...”

Marianne tuned out as he ushered the pair of guards away. Turning her attention to the distasteful mess on her sword, she began meticulously wiping it clean with the leaf she held. The metal sang with each stroke, enough to drown out the trio’s distant conversation to give them their privacy. They’d been through a lot; the last thing they needed was her butting in. 

A few moments later Alastair strolled back over, dark eyes watching the pair of soldiers as they flew off—one distinctly more shaky than the other. Hopefully he’d made a point to tell them to seek medical attention when they got back. 

Once they were out of earshot, the Captain turned to Marianne. “That would’ve ended a lot worse without your help. We’re lucky that you happened to be passing by. Again. Funny how that keeps happening whenever there’s any sign of trouble.” 

“You’re _welcome._ ” She deliberately ignored the accusation in his tone and the ghost of a smirk on his lips. It was no secret to him that she didn’t simply _happen_ upon the Royal Guards’s recent troubles, he was just playing dumb. She’d heard about a commotion in the meadow from the last shift of on-duty guards back at the castle; getting involved was an urge she couldn’t control. 

Once her sword was clean, she sheathed it and tossed the sullied leaf aside, disgusted by more than the mess. “These spiders just won’t quit.” 

Alastair’s eyes, such a dark brown they were almost black, moved to take in the trail of disheveled brush left behind by the spider’s escape. In less than an instant, his stone-face returned, the trace amount of mirth vanishing from his expression. 

“It seems not. Thankfully no one’s been seriously hurt, but we also don’t know _why_ they’re causing so many problems.” 

Marianne’s features pinched as she followed his gaze. The Captain wasn’t the only one who was frustrated. 

This was the fourth incident in the past two months. Ever since the Fairy Kingdom and Dark Forest were united, the spiders that dwelled in both realms had acted strangely: attacking fairies, elves, and darklings alike, building webs along the primrose border as if to prevent passing from one kingdom to another. The Royal Guard had taken care of the problems as best they could, but stopping individual incidents only helped so much when no one knew the cause of the problem. 

“Maybe now they’ll get the message,” she finally said. Her gaze returned to him as she shifted her weight to her opposite leg. “That one went too far, now it paid for attacking us. We’ve never hurt one of them _back_ before; you’d think that’d be enough to show we won’t tolerate them attacking people, no matter why they’re doing it.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’d think.” 

Quiet stretched between them. Alastair’s gaze was fixed on a point in the distance that she couldn’t see; the sun beating down on them cast a shadow over his eyes from his helmet. There was a solemnity to his bearing that made the princess worry that he blamed himself for allowing yet another incident to happen. But he was doing everything he could. He had to know that. 

Marianne was quickly fed up with the silence—and her friend’s seriousness—breaking it with the first thing that came to mind, “You know you don’t have to call me ‘Your Highness.’” She mocked the honorific in an exaggeratedly high-pitched tone. “I hate all those titles; just call me ‘Marianne.’”    

But Alastair barely registered that she’d spoken, staring off as concentration creased his brow. Only once enough time had passed that she nearly repeated herself did he cast her a knowing glance out the corner of his eye. “You know that I’m obligated to address you properly, no matter how many times we have this argument, _Your Highness._ ” 

The mischievous lilt to his tone was unmistakable. He drove her crazy, but really, his sarcasm and dry humor were a large part of why they made great friends. 

Being both the princess and one of the Fairy Kingdom’s best combatants was an odd mix. As far as most of the kingdom was concerned, she was in stark contrast with what they’d always expected from a princess, instead having earned the reputation of being distant and aloof. But even more than that, the fact that she was next in line for the throne caused everyone to tiptoe around her, terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing and getting on her bad side. It was like they didn’t know what to fear more: the wrath of a warrior, or a future Queen. 

Alastair, on the other hand, just didn’t care. The titles she despised meant nothing to him when they were conversing between sparring sessions or ran into each other when he was out on patrol; he treated her normally, something that most were afraid to do. 

He _purposely_ drove her crazy.

“And,” Alastair casually continued on, “I’m sure you also know that you’re going to be late.”

The statement hit her like a slap in the face. She jerked, going rigid with the realization that he was right—that fight had gone on longer than she’d thought. 

A curse fell from her lips. “You couldn’t have told me sooner?” She glared at Alastair accusingly before looking down at her appearance: clothes disheveled and dirty, a thin line of blood marring one arm from the blow the spider landed. Thinking of what her hair must look like made her bite back a groan. 

“My apologies, Princess,” the Captain drawled, but she ignored him in favor of frantically brushing down her clothes, the action kicking up a cloud of dirt and grime. 

“Dad’ll kill me if he sees me like—” but an _ahem_ cut her off, and she looked up to see Alastair offering her another leaf. This time there was no mistaking his smirk. 

She let out a grunt in place of thanks as she snatched it from him, but it did do a better job of clearing away the evidence than her hands had been. Even so, she could only afford to spare a minute on cleaning herself up. Hopefully it would be enough. 

In unison the pair took off, her exhaustion completely forgotten in the wake of her panic. Alastair was one of the few people who could keep up with Marianne as she flew at full speed. The streaks of orange and spots of white on his wings flashed in the sun as he easily pulled up alongside her, but her focus was zeroed in on the castle. After an exhausting battle, the last thing she needed was a lecture from her dad about being punctual. 

“Head straight for the throne room; I’ll cover for you.” Alastair’s voice was halfway stolen by the wind.

One brow raised, but she didn’t protest the offer. “Don’t get yourself in trouble in the process.”

He laughed, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. “Me? Never.” Spinning to fly facing her—going backwards as he did so—Alastair offered a mock salute before breaking off from her path, diving towards the lower entryway into the castle while she headed for the large, open wall of the throne room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I just want to say thanks so much to everyone who read the first chapter, and a super special thank you to everyone who left kudos, comments, or has bookmarked! I'm thrilled that this piece is getting positive reception, and I appreciate each and every person who takes the time to check out my work! 
> 
> Dawn's character is so much fun to write, I love her special brand of bubbly sass, so I hope you enjoy her in this chapter! Also, since the Fairy King isn't canonically named (as far as I'm aware), I've given him the name King Julian. 
> 
> Prepare for some family shenanigans!

“ _There_ you are!”

Dawn’s exclamation echoed in the vastness of the throne room. The stone floor and walls acted like amplifiers, drilling the sound into Marianne’s head. 

Both hands brushed at the stubborn remains of dirt clinging to her clothes as she came to stand by her sister. She could feel Dawn’s gaze raking over her, taking in how awful she surely looked. 

Then the interrogation started. 

“Where’ve you been?”

The brunette’s answers were clipped. “Out.”

“You cut it close this time.”

“I know—”

“Why are you so dirty?”

“It’s nothing—”

“What happened to your clo—?”

“ _Dawn_ , please!” Marianne interrupted, her voice a bit harsher than she’d intended. “All the questions really aren’t helping.” 

The younger fairy went quiet with a _humph_ , but her gaze was scrutinizing; concern swam in the depths of crystalline blue. Finally she sighed, arms crossing over her chest. “You were out playing guard duty again, weren’t you?” But Marianne didn’t even get the chance to reply, “Dad’s not gonna be happy when he finds out—you know how he worries.” 

“ _If_ he finds out,” she corrected, shooting Dawn a pointed look. “You know, you could help me, instead of lecturing. I’ll get enough of that from Dad as it is.” 

Dawn rolled her eyes, but moved to help brush the dirt from her sister’s shoulders, nose wrinkling in obvious disapproval. Picking a sizable pebble out of Marianne’s hair, she squinted at it as if personally offended. “How do you even _get_ this dirty?”

Stooping down to swipe the dust from her boots, she stated matter-of-factly, “Occupational hazard.” A smirk tugged at her lips.

Dawn’s head lolled in a full circle from the force of her groan. “Marianne, you’re not a—”

But before she could finish the throne room doors swung open, revealing their father in the final throes of conversation with a stone-faced Captain Alastair. The two sisters leapt apart before they were noticed, Marianne pointedly ignoring how the blonde flicked the pebble aside as if she thought holding it any longer would magically make her just as filthy. Alastair caught the brunette’s eye just as he turned and vanished down the hallway. 

The King’s features were troubled as he crossed the room towards his daughters. Worry creased his brow, forming a tangled web of wrinkles around his eyes that made him look decades older. 

“Dad?” Dawn’s gentle voice piped up. “What happened?”

And that was all it took. Like clouds parting after a storm, the King’s expression cleared, and the look he offered the blonde was warm. “It’s nothing to worry about, my dear. The Captain has everything taken care of.” 

Marianne bit back a scoff. Of course he wouldn’t want Dawn to know what happened. Having witnessed it herself, the elder princess knew it was much more than “nothing,” but their father always tried to hide the gravity of any sort of problem from Dawn; he tried so hard to keep her innocent. Marianne always had the sneaking suspicion it was largely because of her. Maybe, in a way, the King felt the change she’d gone through was his fault, and didn’t want to fail Dawn in the same manner. 

But regardless, Marianne knew he’d do everything in his power to keep Dawn from having the same sort of epiphany for as long as he could. A pang of bitterness balled her left hand into a fist. 

After all, _one_ of them had to be the picture-perfect princess that the kingdom wanted. 

But Marianne had learned first-hand that Dawn didn’t need to be babied. She was stronger than ever after the love potion ordeal. And while Marianne still worried about her, she’d backed off enough to let Dawn take care of herself. It was about time their father did the same. 

Apparently Dawn was having similar thoughts, if the way both hands planted firmly on her hips was any indication. Her head cocked with a positively indignant look. “I’m not a kid anymore. I should know if something’s wrong.” 

Ironically her tone was more childish than stern, but it seemed the King didn’t have the energy to argue. A hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose. When he spoke he simply sounded tired; like news of the most recent incident had stolen the breath from his lungs, and every word he uttered was a tremendous effort. “There was another spider confrontation this morning, in the meadow, close to Elf Town. Two guards were attacked. Captain Alastair just came from the scene.”

Dawn let out a gasp, her defiance instantly deflating. Both of them were aware of the stress the assaults put on their father. Her hands slipped back down to her sides, the thumb of her right hand rubbing the side of her forefinger, eyes staring guiltily at the ground. 

King Julian sighed, his hand dragging down his face, giving a tug on his salt-and-peppery beard before dropping completely. At which point his steady gaze fell directly on Marianne. “Thankfully, the situation was resolved before anyone was hurt.” 

Instantly her shoulders tensed. Unconsciously she shifted so the small injury she’d sustained was angled away from her father’s penetrating stare. She faked her best concerned expression, trying to force the same amount of distress into the tight press of her mouth as Dawn displayed. But her father’s green eyes glinted like the armor he wore. And she knew.

He was already suspicious. 

“How nice of you to be here on time today, Marianne,” he went on, but his tone had changed—switching from troubled King to stern father in an instant. 

She didn’t flinch. “For once I’m not the one who was almost late. Ya’ know, for someone who’s always lecturing me about ‘princesses being punctual,’ you cut it pretty close.” Thanks to Alastair’s perfect timing, no doubt. 

But King Julian wasn’t fooled by her attempt at snark. “The Captain was filling me in, as he should.” He inclined his head at her, brows raising expectantly and looking her over from head to toe, lingering on the tears in her pants and scuffed boots. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, I’m sure.” 

Her teeth ground together, crackling like firewood in her skull. It’d been stupid of her to think that he wouldn’t figure it out. No amount of primping could erase the scuffs in her clothes. 

She considered denying the thinly veiled accusation. But almost as quickly as the thought surfaced, it was dismissed. All it would do was make him more upset. Might as well take the inevitable reprimand with a shred of dignity. 

Naturally, though, she wouldn’t back down easily. She shifted her weight so one hip jutted out, crossing her arms over her chest as father and daughter stared each other down. Dawn shifted uncomfortably in the corner of her vision. 

Finally the challenge in her expression melted into resignation. “Did Alastair tell you?”

The King seemed offended at the idea. “He didn’t have to. What were you thinking, getting involved in something so dangerous? You could’ve been killed!” 

Marianne groaned, tilting back on her heels as if the scolding she’d been subjected to countless times now had no stronger effect than a gentle shove. “Dad, I swear, it was no big deal! I was just stretching my wings and happened to be flying by—”

But he didn’t even let her finish before he threw his arms up in the air. “Marianne, how many times do we have to have this conversation? You’re a _princess_ , not a soldier.”

She rolled her eyes as she scoffed. Who was he to tell her who she was? “Yeah, only because if I was I’d single-handedly put the entire army out of their jobs.” 

“I know you can take care of yourself, and you only want to help—”

“You didn’t deny it!”

“— _but_ I don’t want to see you get hurt!” His hands extended between them in a placating gesture, but the action was strangely desperate. “Leave the fighting to the people whose job it is, _please_. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

A rebuttal sprang to her lips, but there was something about his tone that made her swallow it back down. How his final statement had sounded more like an entreatment—like a prayer, murmured in the futile hope of avoiding what was unavoidable. 

Despite her anger, despite how tired she was of her father trying to tell her who she couldn’t be, the fire of rebellion in her chest ebbed, just as it always did. Surrender wasn’t in her nature, but arguing was the last thing her father needed right now. The fire wasn’t extinguished by any means, but, for the time being, it could be locked away for later. She only hoped that her father would be more agreeable when “later” came. 

Resignation must have shown on her features, for as soon as she resolved to let it go, relief flooded the King’s eyes and eased the worry lines stitched across his brow. Marianne forced herself to smile as he took one of her hands, cupping it between his own.

“I only want you to be safe,” he reaffirmed with a squeeze of her fingers. But even if he sensed that her conceit was only temporary, she was thankful when he continued on with a final pat to her knuckles. “Even if I haven’t convinced you, at least avoid pulling any stunts like this tomorrow, alright? It won’t make a good impression on our guest if the princess causes a scene.” 

And the momentary relief was gone. Disgust flared her nostrils as her ghost of a smile dropped off her face like a stone disappearing in water. “Why is she even coming, anyway? I still can’t believe you accepted that ‘invitation.’”

Gesturing for his daughters to follow, the Fairy King made his way out of the throne room and down the opulent hall. Seamlessly Dawn fell into step on his left side while Marianne strode at his right. The wooden walls on either side of the trio stretched high above their heads, the individual boughs and branches that made up the castle twisting and curling together to form a tangle of arches that ran the length of the ceiling. Patterns in the grain created a natural wallpaper that made the perfectly straight corridor seem to ebb and flow. 

“A wise ruler never turns down an offering of peace,” came the King’s sage reply. But Marianne wasn’t buying it.  

“That wasn’t an _offer_ , Dad. She basically said, ‘I’m coming in a week so you’d better be okay with it.’ She didn’t even tell you her name, just that she’s ‘the Queen of the Vale.’”

This wasn’t the first time Marianne had expressed her dislike of their imminent visitor. When a missive had come for her father the previous week, addressed from a self-proclaimed Queen and declaring that said Queen was coming to visit the Fairy Kingdom, it instantly hadn’t sat well with the eldest princess. The tone of the letter hadn’t been suggestive. It was lucky for the imposing Queen that her father hadn’t had a problem with the idea. 

And, somehow, the supposed royal seemed to know everything about the truce between the fairies and Darklings, despite both parties having no idea her kingdom existed until her letter came. Throughout the entire message she hadn’t revealed a shred of information about herself, her kingdom, her people, or how she’d known about the recent alliance—aside from the fact that she was coming to “congratulate” them for the newfound peace.

They knew nothing about the woman they were welcoming into their kingdom. 

“I’m excited to meet her,” Dawn piped up, all smiles now that the tension had dissipated. “I’ve never met any other royalty.” As soon as the words left her lips, however, her nose wrinkled, and she gave a jerk of her head. “Bog doesn’t count.” 

“How do we even know that she _is_ royalty?” Marianne asked. “She said in her letter that she’s self-declared. Does the Vale even have a royal family?”

The King led them around a corner as he replied, still offering Marianne a disapproving look, “Not that we were aware of, but we don’t know much about the Vale or the people who live there; that’s why I’ve asked Gabriel to research all he can. We’re on our way to see him now.” 

The brunette wrinkled her nose. As far as Marianne was aware, the Vale was a place inhabited by creatures too vicious to live among the fairies or the Darklings. It was overgrown and wild; no one in their right mind would ever travel to the Vale willingly. 

It didn’t seem like a place that could be ruled by _anyone_.

Dawn made a questioning sound at the mention of Gabriel, the King’s Grand Advisor, peeking around their father’s torso to raise a brow at her sister. “Speaking of the Grouch, why isn’t Bog here? Doesn’t he need to know all this stuff too?”

“He’s taking care of a few things on the castle’s reconstruction before tomorrow.” Even though he wasn’t having any more fun than she was, at least he got out of their pointless history lesson. The new location for the Dark Forest’s castle had been chosen, and construction was coming along, but Bog wanted to be sure that it would stay on track while he was in the Fairy Kingdom for the impending “royal” visit. 

She’d just have to fill him in on everything he missed in _excruciating_ detail. 

“If we didn't even know that the Vale was being ruled, how can we be sure if anything else we supposedly know about it is true?” Marianne questioned after a moment, giving her father a pointed look. “Our information has been wrong so far. There’s no point in brushing up on what we know when it could be entirely wrong. Wouldn’t it make more sense to at least go into the meeting with a blank slate?” 

“Always the optimist, Marianne,” Dawn huffed. Even though she didn’t look over, she could perfectly envision the younger fairy rolling her eyes. 

Marianne gave a shrug. Absently her head bobbed to the beat of the steady _tap tap tap_ of their footsteps. “I’m just trying to point out that we have no idea what to expect.” 

The King sighed in exasperation. “Marianne, opening up communication between kingdoms is important in keeping the peace. Our knowing nothing about the Vale is only more of a reason to be friendly with their Queen and their people. When you rule the Fairy Kingdom someday, it’ll be up to you to foster that peace; to establish and maintain alliances that benefit the kingdom. You’ve got to learn to trust that others are genuine when they reach out to you. Your constant doubt will only gain us enemies.” 

It took an astounding effort for Marianne not to groan. There he went with his “lessons on being a ruler.” Ever since the alliance between the kingdoms, her father had been talking like he expected her to take over for him any day. He was constantly trying to “pass on his wisdom.”

But his idea of wisdom was shallow facts he’d learned from sitting in his gilded throne and watching his people from afar, and that wasn’t how Marianne intended to rule. When the time did come for her to take the throne, she planned on spending as little time actually sitting in it as possible. How could she ever hope to rule a people who she had no involvement with? It wasn’t that her father wasn’t a good ruler, but he didn’t understand her desire to be among her own people, to go out into their world and listen to them, to be directly involved in their lives. His supposed lessons were nothing but purple prose and formalities. They had nothing to do with the people. 

Not to mention that she’d heard his lectures countless times now. They’d all started to sound the same, blending together into a drone of ridiculous etiquette and worthless niceties that went in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t like she intended to rule anytime soon, anyway. As far as she was concerned, she still had plenty of time to figure out how to be her own kind of Queen. 

“Whatever you say, Dad,” Marianne finally conceded, although the words were barely more than a grumble. “I just hope we don’t all end up regretting this.” 

“Aren’t you even a little curious?” Dawn again piped up with her optimism. With a skip in her step, she hopped ahead of the other two, turning to walk backwards in front of them with her hands clasped behind her back. “I mean, she’s a _Queen_ , from an entirely _new_ place!” Pink lips pursed together as she leaned towards her sister. “That sounds like something you’d be excited about, Miss Reckless Adventurer.”  

Marianne only sneered. “Oh yeah, cause this Queen of the Vale really sounds like someone I’d get along with. Conceited? Definitely. Self-righteous? Count me in. Just check them all off down the list.” She pantomimed making checkmarks in the air. “The excitement is killing me.”

She met the blonde’s deadpan gaze. There was a hint of irritation in her sister’s eyes, buried deep beneath her attempts at cheer, but before Marianne could take back any of her cynicism, their father pushed his way between them with spread arms and an imploring look. 

“Your sister’s right; try to think of this as an opportunity—an adventure. That’s what you’re always looking for, right?” He watched out the corner of his eye while Dawn looked between them, obviously relieved that he agreed. 

A sigh puffed through Marianne’s lips. Dejected, her shoulders slumped as the trio came to a stop outside a set of grand doors, the wooden surface engraved with entwining knots of golden filigree. Both of her family members pouting at once just wasn’t fair—Dawn’s puppy-dog eyes alone were enough to render her helpless on most occasions. Combining their powers of sulking should be illegal. Together they were impossible to resist, no matter how unfeeling her reputation. 

And here she’d always thought Dawn got her charm from their mother. 

“ _Fine_.” Marianne slapped one hand against the door, bracing her weight against its surface, while the other planted firmly on her hip. She still wasn’t happy about this, but they’d already accepted the invitation; there wasn’t anything she could do about it now, no matter how much she didn’t like it. “But quit looking at me like that—it’s not fair, and you know it.” 

Instantly the pout evaporated from Dawn’s face. King Julian’s features, however, were etched with what Marianne swore was victoriousness as he shared a momentary look with his youngest daughter. “That’s my girl.”

“ _Now_ ,” the blonde cut in, shooing Marianne’s arm away from the door to grip the handle, “lets hear what _Gabriel_ has to tell us.” From the lilt in her tone and comically waggling eyebrows, it was obvious that the meeting they were about to endure had nothing to do with her sudden excitement. 

Dawn threw open the heavy doors, and the trio crossed over the threshold.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’ve gathered all available documentation on the Vale that I could find, Your Majesties, and in doing so discovered five reports that detail the accounts of five separate scouting expeditions inside the Vale’s borders. The limited knowledge provided by these reports suggest that the Vale is not an environment fit for most creatures. Unfortunately, the dense underbrush and vicious wildlife have prevented any attempt from traveling much past the land’s borders...”

Marianne tried to listen to Gabriel’s spiel—delivered, for the most part, over the top of an open book that he seemed to perpetually hold in his left hand. Each time she saw him, the tome was something different. This time, appropriately, she could just make out the worn letters of V-A-L-E stamped across the leather binding. 

But it was impossible to concentrate when Dawn’s blissful sighs came not even seconds apart. 

The glare Marianne cast at the other fairy went completely unnoticed. Dawn’s focus was too completely on watching Gabriel, who stood on the opposite side of the long banquet table from the three royals. His sky blue wings draped down to the floor behind him like a knight’s cape, no doubt only adding fuel to Dawn’s fantasies. Where Marianne had pushed her seat back far enough to prop her feet up on the table—casually ignoring her father’s glares while she did so—Dawn leaned forward with her elbows sitting on the tabletop. Delicate fingers curled into twin pillows that supported her chin. 

Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if Dawn realized she was doing it. But, unfortunately, that didn’t make it any less annoying to listen to. 

As if to prove her point, Dawn’s hand shot up in the air for the third time since they’d began, accompanied by an “oh, oh!” that sounded far too much like an over-excited child on their first day at the Fairy Academy. 

Gabriel paused mid-sentence, one thin brow arched above his silver-framed glasses. “Another question, princess?” 

“Yeah, so, we basically have no idea what’s out there in the Vale, then?” 

The advisor was quiet for a moment, as if thoroughly contemplating every word before he spoke, “We know to an extent, Your Highness. The scouts we’ve sent have encountered a variety of the Vale’s inhabitants, and recorded those encounters, but aside from what they’ve directly experienced, we know very little.”

Dawn’s mouth opened again, but he continued on faster than she could ask, “Your next question will be what sorts of creatures we do know live in the Vale, I presume. To start, a majority of animals that the first scouting parties encountered were venomous: frogs, snakes, large lizards. The second expedition was attacked by a feral Black Widow spider. Another report, two attempts later, tells of entire fields of fire ant hills.”

Marianne’s eyes widened a bit more with every word. How could anyone possibly live in such a brutal place, much more claim to _rule_ it? If this mysterious woman really was the _Queen_ of the Vale, Marianne had to admit, she’d be impressed. Credit was given where it was due.

But Gabriel still wasn’t finished. “Although none of the reports tell of physical encounters, there were multiple sightings of owls, hawks, and other birds of prey.” A sardonic smile quirked one corner of his lips. “The plant life there is dangerous as well: most of the flowers that grow are at least mildly poisonous. To top it all off, the borders of the Vale are covered with nearly impenetrable thickets of poison ivy, which is why it took the Fairy Kingdom until the fourth regime to even attempt to send anyone inside.”

The silence was thick as the family digested the intimidating list. Finally, Dawn’s timid voice piped up with nothing more than a simple, “Oh.”

“Indeed.” A hint of amusement flashed in Gabriel’s emerald eyes. As quickly as it had come, however, that flash vanished, and he was all business once again. Unfortunately, that brief look was all it took to renew Dawn’s swooning. Marianne shot her father a distasteful glance as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

Gabriel inclined his head at the trio. The motion caused a strand of long, flaxen hair to come free from the ponytail at base of his neck, which he was quick to brush back. “In all of our exploration attempts, nothing was ever found that suggested any sort of highly intelligent life, not to mention a royal dwelling or functional civilizational hub—although, that could be because our scouts never made it past the Vale’s outer ring. The only life ever encountered was wild and hostile.

“Whoever sent you that missive was clearly intelligent. And, if what she says is true, we can assume she’s powerful, given the force it would take to tame what we previously believed untamable. Our knowledge of the Vale as a whole is limited—our knowledge of its intelligent life and what that life is capable of is exponentially more so. It has never been encountered before by the Fairy Kingdom.”

His gaze flicked to the eldest princess before resting meaningfully upon the King. “Princess Marianne is correct, sire. I’ve spent the past week thoroughly investigating all the information we have available, and yet, we’re still going into this meeting blind, for all intents and purposes.” 

Marianne couldn’t help but scoff. She stared angrily at a distant point on the wall. “Told you this was stupid.”

The King looked rightfully troubled. He stared down at the glossy surface of the table, brows knit closely together, with the knuckles of his right hand pressed against his mouth in contemplation. Marianne had suspected this would happen from the start, but of course, it took the _Grand Advisor_ saying the _exact_ same thing to get it through her father’s head. Clearly it would take the world ending before he took his own daughter’s word. 

“Your father was wise to at least try,” Gabriel admonished gently. The index finger of his free hand pushed his glasses higher up on his nose. “If nothing else, all three of you now know more about the Vale’s environment—and, after tomorrow, what we learn from meeting the Queen can be added to the archive.” 

“Assuming she opens up in person more than she did in her letter.”

“It was _her_ idea to come here, you know,” Dawn was quick to protest her sister’s cynicism. “If she didn’t want to talk to us, she wouldn’t have sent a message at all.” 

“A safe assumption,” Gabriel confirmed. Instantly Dawn’s smile lit up, and she offered Marianne a victorious look. “You may have your doubts, Princess Marianne, but it’s unlikely that she would have contacted His Majesty if she didn’t have any interest in meeting all of you.”

“I guess,” Marianne grumbled. 

“You might be surprised. She could be nothing like you expect.” He punctuated the statement by snapping his book closed. The dull thud echoed in the vast, mostly empty room. 

Marianne didn’t give an answer, instead hunching her shoulders and drawing her arms closer to her chest. She _highly_ doubted that would happen, no matter how optimistic everyone else was. She didn’t understand how they could turn a blind eye to how, despite being reserved about herself, she expected the Fairy Kingdom to bend over backwards to accommodate her spur of the moment visit. But, if even Gabriel couldn’t see that there was reason for concern, it was obvious that she was alone in that thinking. 

They spent the next hour going over the handful of scout reports in more detail. It was a lot of speculation—the King wanted Gabriel’s best guess as to what to expect from the Queen, seemingly unable to accept that the advisor’s guess was as good as his own. 

Finally, once the King was satisfied, he dismissed his daughters to go about their day while he stayed behind to have a private conversation with his advisor. Marianne was all too happy to escape while she could.

Even with how quickly she hurried out the door, Dawn caught up to her, practically skipping down the hallway. The shimmering blue fabric of her dress flounced wildly around her knees as she pranced along. The crystal chandeliers hanging in fixed intervals above their heads cast a halo of stardust on her golden hair. 

“Can’t really say that went well, huh?” 

“Understatement,” Marianne scoffed. 

“But,” Dawn singsonged, “at least I got to spend the afternoon with Gabriel.” The advisor’s name came out as a dreamy sigh that clashed with her sister’s exasperated groan. 

“Do I need to remind you that you’re in a committed relationship? I can’t believe you spent that entire time fawning over him.” Her tone was obviously disapproving. She didn’t understand how Dawn could still be so boy-crazy despite her relationship with Sunny. Watching it made her stomach turn. 

Dawn’s cheer instantly vanished. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips. “I wasn’t fawning—I was just talking, asking questions. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, please. You were totally flirting.”

“ _Being nice_ is not _flirting_. Am I not allowed to be nice just because Gabriel’s an attractive guy?”

Marianne’s hands planted firmly on her hips. She pinned her sister with what she hoped was a withering look. “Just because you don’t do it purposefully doesn’t mean you’re not doing it. I’m not the only one who notices.” 

The blonde’s hands curled into frustrated fists, held up in the air for several moments before falling back to her sides with a drawn-out groan. “You’re always so grumpy and negative all the time; do you even know what being friendly _is_?”

“ _You’re_ the one who was boy-crazy for the past few years; don’t _you_ know what flirting is?” Marianne retorted without missing a beat. Dawn’s comments regarding her own less-than-cheerful disposition were easily disregarded with little more than a roll of her eyes. “You really don’t think there’s anything wrong with how you act?” she questioned, one hand gesturing down the hall back the way they’d come to indicate their meeting with Gabriel. “Think of how Sunny would feel if he saw that. It’s totally obvious when you’re talking to someone you think is attractive; everyone can see the Hot Guy Alarm going off in your head, especially Sunny. Even if you don’t mean anything by it, it’s written all over your face.”

Dawn’s features tightened. She watched the brunette with narrowed eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to trust whoever you’re in a relationship with? Just because I have a nice conversation with another boy doesn’t mean I’m swooning over him—isn’t it enough that I _tell_ Sunny that nothing’s going on?”

The whine in her voice barely masked her underlying frustration. Hopefully, if she was getting annoyed, she was starting to see the error of her ways. 

“No, it isn’t,” Marianne said simply. Her arms crossed over her chest. It was Marianne’s firm belief that actions spoke louder than words—the countless times Roland claimed to love her were rendered meaningless when faced with his betrayal. When Sunny was hurting it wasn’t enough for Dawn to try and explain with empty words when her behavior told an entirely different story. “You can’t show him one thing and tell him another. How can he rely on trust when you’re constantly flirting with every guy you see?” 

Trust—Marianne spat the word like a curse. She knew too well where trusting someone who wasn’t showing the same commitment in the relationship could lead. Not that Dawn even slightly compared to Roland—her flirting was meaningless, while Roland’s cheating had been anything but—but the similarities were there. 

Her expression was stone-faced as she regarded her sister. “You need to stop, Dawn. It might not mean anything to you, but it means _everything_ to Sunny.”

“Ugh! You’re such a drama queen!” Dawn’s previous prancing had devolved into childish stomping that echoed down the hallway as they walked. A pathetic pout had overtaken her features, but there was a distinct glint of indignation beneath the surface of blue eyes. They’d had similar arguments multiple times before. If Dawn didn’t see that anything was wrong, even after so many times, there wasn’t anything that Marianne could do. 

“How can you talk like you know how Sunny’s feeling?” Dawn’s posture straightened, suddenly more confident, with her hands curled firmly around her hips. “It’s not like Bog has a bunch of girls swarming him all the time.” 

A retort leapt to Marianne’s lips, but she bit it back. She didn’t want to fight with Dawn, but trying to make her understand was just as exhausting as a battle. One that, unfortunately, Marianne was losing. 

“Don’t try to turn this on me. Bog isn’t the one who—” But before another word escaped, Marianne caught herself, clamping her mouth shut before anything more slipped out. Even so long afterwards, she refused to tell anyone about what happened with Roland—especially because of this ridiculous conversation that she and Dawn had had a thousand times before.

Dawn cocked her head back in defiance, as if Marianne’s stutter was somehow a portent of losing the argument. “Don’t pretend to be a know-it-all about something you can’t even relate to. You don’t know what Sunny’s feeling, so you have no right to say that my supposed flirting—” she made air quotes with her fingers, “—is so horrible.” 

Dawn’s ignorant words hit her like a punch to the gut. Marianne’s previously irate expression broke for a split second, hurt flashing in her eyes, before darkening into a scowl. A rational voice in the depths of her mind whispered that her anger was ridiculous: it was her own fault that Dawn had no idea how wrong she was, but it didn’t make her sister’s ignorance hurt any less. 

“Right,” Marianne ground out between clenched teeth, “because _I’m_ the one who can’t relate to how Sunny feels. I’m the one who has _no idea_ what it’s like to wonder if the person you’re with loves you as much as you love them, or if their “I love you’s” ever even meant anything to them—” In her rage Marianne threw her arms up in the air with a disgusted grunt, her wings opening in tandem with the motion. “Just forget it. Forget I said anything.” 

Without another word the brunette alighted and fluttered down the hallway, flying as fast as she could in the enclosed space. She barely caught a glimpse of Dawn’s expression out the corner of her eye: innocent eyes wide with shock, even a touch of fear; hands curled defensively into her chest and shoulders drawn inward. Marianne’s fingers were clenched so tightly that her knuckles ached in protest, but the sound of the bones creaking couldn’t be heard over her own furious huffs of breath. She needed to get away from Dawn before she said something she’d regret.

“Marianne!” her sister’s pleading calls echoed after her, laced with confusion and hurt. “Marianne, wait! What were you going on about?” 

But Marianne kept going without looking back; her narrowed gaze was glued to a point in the distance, clinging to the futile hope that if she ignored the fact that anything was wrong for long enough, the problem would go away. “It’s nothing,” she snapped over her shoulder, a bit harsher than she’d intended. “You never listen to me anyway, so why would this be any different? Just never mind.”

Soft fluttering sounds from behind told her that Dawn was following after, but Marianne was done. Done with subjecting herself to the pain of Roland’s memories, with fighting Dawn over something she’d never understand, with the sympathy for Sunny that drained her like a leach latched onto her heart. 

She just needed to be alone. 

Her sister’s entreatments for her to stop were a physical weight that threatened to drag her to collapse. But, thankfully, when she turned the next corner, she found herself in a hallway that ran along the outside of the palace: enormous cutouts had been carved in the wood in place of windows to allow for easy coming and going. And she intended to take full advantage. 

After only a blink’s worth of hesitation, Marianne pressed her wings flat to her sides and dove out the nearest opening, knowing that Dawn would never be able to catch up to her flying at full speed. Slowly her sister’s shouts faded, lost to the din of wind roaring in her ears as she soared into the open sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed the third chapter! Gabriel and Alastair are a fun pair of characters to write, so I hope you all like them both, too! 
> 
> Uh-oh, looks like the drama llama reared its head ~~mwahaha yes give me all the drama I love it~~ xD I love Marianne and Dawn but sometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with them and their bickering, haha. 
> 
> More sibling drama and bonding to come in the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

A knock came on Marianne’s door that night, interrupting the endless loop that her thoughts had been running since she collapsed onto her rosebud bed what had to have been hours ago. Before Dawn’s gentle voice even filtered through the wood, Marianne knew who it was and why she’d come. 

“Marianne? I know you’re in there. Can I come in? Please?”

She sighed where she lay stretched out atop her bed, the gossamer petals like velvet brushing against her skin as she begrudgingly sat up. Her wings draped over either side, just barely tickling the floor. 

She knew that after their fight earlier that day, the painfully awkward conversation to come was inevitable. But the morning’s battle with the spider coupled with their argument had sucked Marianne dry. Her limbs were heavy, threatening to drag her off the bed and to the ground, where she’d keep sinking and sinking until the earth swallowed her whole. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so exhausted. The cut on her arm throbbed in time with her heartbeat, but, oddly, the dull stinging somehow made her feel better. It reminded her of her own strength, even if that strength had abandoned her entirely in light of the day’s events. 

“Marianne?” Dawn’s voice was hesitant this time. Even a touch remorseful. “Hello? I just want to talk.”

A strangled puff of air blew past her lips—it would have been a groan, had she had the energy to produce one. Guilt had been gnawing at her all day. She’d been too hard on Dawn, letting her irrational anger get the best of her. It wasn’t her sister’s fault that Marianne had never opened up about what happened—that she didn’t know how deeply her words had hurt. 

It was that thought that led the brunette to reluctantly concede. “Yeah, come in,” she said with a wave of her arm. Her other elbow rested on her leg, a fist supporting her cheek. Her head was heavy, like it had been filled with metal, lolling around atop her neck without the additional support. 

Dawn entered the room like a feather carried on the springtime breeze. The door opened and shut soundlessly, her gentle footsteps making only the slightest whisper of rustling as she padded across the room. Her gaze was diverted downward, watching her hands fiddle restlessly, her right hand clasped around the tip of her left pointer finger that twisted and turned like a key jammed inside a lock. 

An awkward silence descended upon the room. Both sister’s avoided eye contact, neither knowing where to begin, before Marianne finally sighed. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh, it’s just—” But she stopped herself mid-sentence. What excuse could she give for her outburst that wouldn’t infringe into territory where she refused to tread?

Dawn shook her head before she could go on. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”

“I wasn’t, I was just...tired, is all. From fighting the spider this morning.” The statement was weak and unconvincing, even to her own ears.

Her sister’s blue eyes bore into her, filled with so many conflicting emotions that Marianne couldn’t place them all. The nervous motion of her hands intensified. 

“Marianne, I know that—...” She stopped, lips pursing together as she searched the other’s expression, as if the right words would reveal themselves in Marianne’s eyes. “I-I _know._ That whatever that was has something to do with Roland.”

Marianne’s heart stopped. Her eyes went wide, alarm bells blaring inside her skull. The fist supporting her cheek suddenly felt cold as stone. Disheartening as it was, it wasn’t surprising that Dawn had figured out that this all revolved back to the wedding day. But she’d been avoiding the topic for so long that now she had no idea how to deal with its sudden appearance.  

Oblivious to her sister’s internal panic, Dawn’s gaze turned imploring, her hands dropping to her sides as her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Why do you always run away? Can’t you talk to me? I’m your sister—you can tell me anything. You _used_ to tell me _everything,_ but to this day, you still won’t tell me what happened with the wedding.” 

Dawn’s latter words produced a wave of guilt that threatened to drown her. Listening to Dawn sound so dejected made her mouth run dry. 

Marianne’s arms settled in her lap, her hands curling into tight fists against her thighs and her back going rigid. The frustration in her posture was ruined by the nearly imperceptible pleading in her tone, “I—…I _can’t_ talk about it, Dawn.” Her shoulders heaved; she could feel her chest getting tight, her heart pounding so hard that her insides were turning black-and-blue. “I can’t, I—I don’t want you to know how stupid I was, and—” But her words petered off with a sigh. Brown eyes flicked up from the floor to meet her sister’s gaze. “If you care, then please, just let it go.” 

“Marianne, you’re the strongest, smartest, bravest fairy I know. How are you possibly stupid?” For a moment, Dawn’s expression soured. “Except for when you treat me like a little kid, but, anyway—” she waved the comment off. “It’s because I care that I can’t let it go. It still bothers you even after so long.” 

But Dawn’s reassurances fell on deaf ears. The elder princess was too focused on keeping herself together; preventing her stone-face from crumbling any further and revealing the pain underneath. She hated that just the thought of what happened turned her into this simpering little girl: a naive princess who’d been foolish enough to get her heart broken by someone who had never really cared. She was stronger than the age-old heartbreak. This wasn’t who she was.

The petals of her bed shifted as Dawn sat down next to her. Marianne kept her gaze turned away, terrified that if she looked at her sister’s open sincerity that her resolve would crumble.  

“You said that I never listen to you, but only because you don’t give me the chance. You don’t have to shut me out all the time. You _shouldn’t_ shut me out. Not about this.” 

The feeling of Dawn’s hand on hers finally drew her eyes upward, taking in where her sister’s hand draped over her fisted knuckles. Marianne met her gaze as comforting warmth seeped down her arm. 

But then, as Marianne watched, something in Dawn’s eyes changed; a glimmer of despair broke through the swirling emotions trapped in wide sapphires. “You changed, Marianne. You aren’t the sister I used to have, and I think I deserve to know why. Please, stop running away and just _talk_ to me.” 

Marianne was stricken into silence. Was that what Dawn thought of her? Sure, she’d changed, but she was still her sister…right? Her breath came in rapid gasps, and each one felt like fire churning through her lungs. “I didn’t change, I just—” But the words caught on a lump in her throat before she could finish.

Why did Dawn have to care so much? Marianne’s teeth ground together. The truth of her sister’s words hurt most of all. But Dawn didn’t understand how difficult it was to talk about something so painful: how her throat closed until the words couldn’t escape, how the anger and the heartache roiled in her chest and spewed from her lips like acid that led to so many misunderstandings just like this. 

Her sister was still innocent. Dawn had gone from being boy-crazy to a happy relationship with someone who loved her more than anything. 

She had no idea how cruel love could be.

Wide brown eyes searched her bedroom floor as if it would provide her with the strength she needed to go through with what was happening. Normally no one could tell what she was feeling. Marianne kept her emotions locked away deep inside in a tiny box, not sharing her troubles or concerns with anyone—especially about what had happened that fateful day. Even Dawn rarely got insight into her head. Her emotions and her troubles were hers alone to bear, including the heartache. 

But having the same argument with Dawn _again_ had finally broken down the walls of her emotions’s prison cell, and now her moment of weakness had opened the door to the conversation she dreaded more than anything.

She could feel the final pillars of her resolve fracturing. She hated to admit it, but Dawn was right: she did deserve to know. While Marianne was the one who’d been changed, Dawn was her sister. Dawn relied on her, loved her, cared about her more than anyone. 

Was she really going to do this? Could she tell Dawn the truth? 

It took a conscious effort to control her breathing, taking a deep gulp before she could speak, “I grew up, Dawn. I stopped seeing the world as a fairytale. I was stupid, and I let myself be blinded by _love_.” For an instant her features twisted into a scowl, as if the word left a rancid taste in her mouth, but it quickly crumbled in the wake of a sigh that deflated her entire body. “But it was all a lie.” Her voice was soft, barely heard even in the heavy silence of the room. “None of it was real.”

Dawn’s tentative hands moved to hold Marianne’s fully, forcing her to uncurl her tight fists. It wasn’t until the pressure released that Marianne felt the sting of the crescent-shaped indents her nails had left in her palms. 

Even without looking up, she could feel the weight on the bed shift as Dawn scooted closer to her side. “What happened, Marianne?” Her voice was small, but there was strength in the firm, reassuring grip of her hands. 

Her sister was many things: flighty, trusting to a fault, and more than a bit naive. She was oblivious, and frustrating, and she drove Marianne crazy. 

But as Marianne looked up, eyes free of tears by sheer willpower alone, Dawn’s voice, her comforting touch—her mere presence soothed the wound deep inside. Even though it bled fresh as the day that Roland’s lies had gouged out a piece of her heart, re-opened by the thought of finally sharing that pain with another, somehow, Dawn was a balm. Marianne couldn’t remember the last time the ache had been eased like this.

And all at once it struck her, left her helplessly overwhelmed, because she remembered: what it was like to share the burden of her pain, to talk to someone who really cared.

To have a sister who loved her. 

Before she had shared everything with Dawn, and it wasn’t until that moment that she remembered why. It felt like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was; it had been another time, when she was another person. It would likely be the hardest thing Marianne had ever had to do, but now that she remembered how it felt to open up to her sister, she realized that she didn’t want to carry her heartache alone anymore.

Marianne’s throat had gone dry. She swallowed once, twice, but nothing would make the words come easily. Her voice jerked and stuttered every other syllable, as if she was trying to force out tar that had been trapped in her lungs. “That day, when you fixed the boutonniere I’d made for Roland—and I was so excited to give it to him that I just flew off without a care in the world…” 

A bitter smile quirked her lips at the corners. Her expression caught between a mirror of that day’s happiness, and the shattered glass of the truth. She could remember that feeling perfectly, the excitement for the wedding to come, the blissful joy like bubbles beneath her skin and feathers in her chest. But even more potent was the pain of betrayal.

“When I found him, he was with someone else. I-I didn’t even recognize her, but then—then he kissed her, and—” Her unfocused gaze fell, the tears that welled in brown hues doing nothing to dampen the clarity of the memory playing before her mind’s eye. Marianne couldn’t bear to look at her sister as she shared her biggest disgrace. 

“I was so in love, but he—…He—…”

She realized that uttering the word would be the most difficult part of all as it snagged in her throat—a desperate effort to salvage what was left of her pride, to hide her shame from the one person Marianne couldn’t bear to think less of her. Saying it was an admission of defeat, and it fell from her lips like the dying breath of the warrior Roland had forced her to become, “… _cheated_ on me.”

Once her story was finished, countless questions filled her head that she didn’t really want the answers to, but above everything else, Marianne morbidly wondered: what did Dawn think of her now? Marianne was the older sibling. She was the rock, the one who was supposed to support Dawn and be there for her. But could someone as foolish as her even fill that role? 

With how often she’d criticized the younger princess for her constant flirting and obsession with boys, she almost expected to be met with a chorus of reprimands: calling her a hypocrite, saying that she’d never had any right to be so judgmental of Dawn’s boy craze. She braced for it. Steeled herself for words that would only be true. Her gaze stared vacantly at her own shoes, unable to look her sister in the eye. 

But then Dawn’s hands slipped from her grasp. The loss of the comforting touch was startling enough to make the brunette look up, only for her to instantly regret it. She didn’t want Dawn to see what she knew she must look like: broken, hurt, bitter. She needed to be the strong one, the older sister that Dawn could count on. Revealing her shame had already done enough to tear down that persona. Would looking the other in the eye be enough to shatter it completely? 

Would Dawn ever see her the same way again?

But what she saw on Dawn’s face was not the judgement she feared, but an expression that looked as broken as she felt. A storm of emotions played across Dawn’s features. Her lips were pressed in a tight line. Usually rosy skin had paled, her eyes turned to saucers that glistened with unshed tears. Dawn looked like she’d just been physically struck: shocked, hurt, and horrified all at once. 

Marianne’s heart thundered with such force that she was sure her chest might burst. She was desperate to know what her sister would say, and yet she dreaded her response more than anything.  

Golden hair swished around Dawn’s temples as she wordlessly shook her head. Thick lines creased her forehead from where her brows drew together. A jolt traveled from the tips of her fingers up to the top of her head. 

And then, before Marianne could react, Dawn reached out and yanked her into a tight hug. 

A soft gasp escaped the elder fairy. At first she remained rigid, tense from the raging emotions that thrummed through her body. Dawn wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her gently, and it was that comforting touch that finally made her relax. 

All the fear, the insecurity, the doubt—Dawn’s embrace forced it from her body. She released a long, drawn-out breath. For the second time, she was overcome with how much she’d missed the closeness they’d shared. Indescribable relief consumed her, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut in order to force back the tears that burned behind her lids.  

“That doesn’t make you stupid at all,” Dawn murmured into her hair. 

And instantly the moment of tranquility shattered thanks to the sheer ridiculousness of her sister’s statement. She barked out a harsh laugh.  

“He fooled me for so long, Dawn. I was so blind that I couldn’t see what was staring me right in the face all that time.” Her tone was hateful and bitter, but in her pitiful attempts to save what face she could, all she could do was shrug awkwardly in her sister’s grip. “He never loved me. And it took him cheating on our wedding day for me to figure that out. If that’s not stupid, I don’t know what is.”

Dawn blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered, pulling away enough to fix the older fairy with a gentle, yet stern, look. She vigorously shook her head. “You trusted the person you loved—you were vulnerable, you let your guard down. You gave Roland your heart and expected him to take care of it. That’s what you’re _supposed_ to do when you love someone. It doesn’t make you stupid at all. And it doesn’t make you at fault, so don’t you dare go blaming yourself for what he did. He was the one who cheated on you. He took advantage when you were just acting like everyone does.” 

Marianne frowned. The words she spouted sounded so much like fairytales, like stories that parents read to children while tucking them in at night. Dawn was so full of innocence. Vulnerability in love; trusting someone else with your heart; equal exchange. Didn’t she know that wasn’t how the real world worked? 

Marianne’s fight was gone. At that point she gave up on trying to preserve her shattered dignity. “I know it was him, I just—It was so obvious, but I still couldn’t see it. Looking back, there were so many times where I should’ve known: something he said, or the way he looked at me…that wasn’t love.”

This time it was Marianne who took the other’s hands. There was something oddly comforting about the simple contact; it was a physical reminder that Dawn was still there. Even after how stupid she’d been, her sister still thought the best of her, gave her the benefit of the doubt, and even though she didn’t necessarily agree, it was enough to warm Marianne’s aching heart. 

“I know it was his fault, but my not seeing it? That’s all on me.” A sigh blew past her lips. Her eyes closed, and she took a minute to gather herself: with each inhale she picked up a piece of the wall she’d built between her heart and the world, and with each exhale, she carefully put it back into place. But, as she did so, she found that the construct wasn’t nearly as formidable as before. Dawn had managed to punch a hole through the barricade. 

If that meant sharing this closeness with her sister again…maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. 

Worried she’d lose her nerve if she paused, Marianne plowed forward before Dawn could react. Her words were rushed and unsure, but suddenly she felt an undeniable need to enunciate everything she was feeling. “I know I’ve changed. But—that person who was fooled by Roland, that isn’t who I am anymore. I grew up.” Her hands gave a reassuring squeeze. “But I’m still your sister. I-I know I’m different, and I’m sorry that I don’t open up, or if I push you away. I don’t mean to, I just—I can’t help it. I love you, and no matter what else does, that will never change.”

For the first time since their conversation began, her eyes were clear of the swell of tears that had nearly overflowed, all of that sadness and hurt being held back by the wall once again. But still there was a glimmer in the gaze she leveled at Dawn. Behind the stoicism and indifference that drove nearly everyone away, there was a spark of that vulnerability. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

For a moment Dawn simply watched her in attentive, respectful silence. But then, despite everything they’d just shared, she smiled. When she finally spoke, her soothing tone sounded so much like their mother that the brunette had to bite back a wince. “There we go again; always so serious.” Her hands turned in Marianne’s grip until their fingers threaded together. “You’re not the only one who didn’t see it—Roland fooled all of us. Just promise me that from now on you won’t keep everything to yourself?”  

Marianne nodded. For a split second her sister looked obviously relieved.  

Then, all at once, the young princess’s expression turned sour, looking every bit the little sister she was. “ _I can’t believe him!_ ” she shouted, her voice shooting up an octave higher than before. Her sudden outburst startled Marianne into letting go of Dawn’s hands. They settled on narrow hips in defiance, and her cheeks went comically red, flushed with anger.

“What a jerk! He’s lucky I didn’t know about this before! Next time I see him, I’m gonna tell him off—he’ll be sorry.” 

And just like that, all of Marianne’s unbearable stress dissolved into nothing, leaving her feeling unbelievably light. She felt weightless; she felt _free_ of the burden of secrecy she'd carried for so long. Dawn’s angry expression was almost too adorable to be effective, but regardless, Marianne appreciated the attempt at righteous fury. 

She laughed. A full, hearty laugh. 

It was strange to open up again. She’d spent so long doing everything in her power to avoid the subject, dodging her family’s questions as effortlessly as she dodged blows in battle. Deep down she knew that Dawn had to be hurting, but at the time, she hadn’t known what else to do.  

She’d forgotten how good if felt to talk to Dawn. Forgotten how much it helped. The realization hit her hard, flooded her with a wave of guilt. Before Roland, before they’d grown apart, they’d shared everything with each other. They’d been practically inseparable. 

So much had gone wrong between them. But the divide that had before seemed insurmountable now had the foundations of being bridged, and a determination lit in her chest that wouldn’t allow them to drift again. 

Marianne cleared her throat with a sharp ahem to interrupt her sister’s ongoing tirade, and Dawn crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. Marianne’s trademark smirk played at her lips, lacking in its usual sincerity, but enough to help her feel more like herself. The topic change certainly helped—no more weepy-eyed sap. 

Telling off Roland? That was a subject she could get behind.

“Why do you think I hit him like that?” she questioned with a raised brow. The image of Roland screaming while plummeting down that cliff was something she’d never forget. Her right hand flexed as if reliving that all-too-satisfying crack of his jaw. “Punching someone never felt so good.”  

“Violence isn’t the answer to everything, you know, even if it ‘feels good.’” Even as she scolded, however, a much more fitting, brilliant smile took up its usual residence on the blonde’s face. 

“You just have no idea how good it feels to punch someone,” Marianne countered. “Especially someone who won’t give it a rest. He _actually_ used the potion on me, Dawn. You really think he didn’t deserve that? Violence can be the answer sometimes, no matter how much you hate to admit it.” She looked at her sister with an arched brow, daring Dawn to say she was wrong. 

As if cheating on her wasn’t enough, Roland had tried to force her to love him anyway. If that combination didn’t deserve a stern sock to the jaw, Marianne didn’t know what would. 

“Reprimanding can work just as well.” 

“Really? Tell that to Dad—after how many times he’s lectured me about my ‘unruly’ behavior, I’m sure he’d agree.” 

Dawn laughed with a shake of her head. Her right shoulder nudged against Marianne’s left. “See? Isn’t this nice? Believe it or not, talking can help. After all, that’s what I’m here for: to listen to you complain.” 

Determined to follow through with ‘no more sap,’ Marianne forced down her own cheesy grin as a mischievous glint lit in her eyes. “Really? Does that extend to anything? Cause you didn’t mention any limits to this arrangement, and I’ve got a lot to complain about. See, I’ve got this sister, and she’s always so _emotional_ and sappy, and I’m worried it’s rubbing off on me…” Her smirk was back in full force, loving every minute of pushing Dawn’s buttons and patiently awaiting her reaction. 

Dawn’s previous smile became positively offended, but that only made the brunette’s smirk grow. Dawn recoiled, looking at her indignantly with brows raised. “That sister is only trying to do you a favor—otherwise you’d just be a grump all the time, you’d never be any fun.” 

“Not a grump—practical.” Marianne’s hands planted firmly on her hips. “I think that sister should be more appreciative, since my grumpiness—” she made air-quotes with her fingers, “—has gotten her out of trouble enough times that I’ve lost count.”

But then Marianne’s smirk morphed into a poorly disguised grin, and she gave the blonde a half-hearted shove. “Besides, one of us has to be at least semi-serious. I’m grumpy, you’re always bubbly and cheerful; I’m constantly subjected to Dad’s ‘royalty lessons,’ and you get to run away before he gets going. I’m just playing to the role I’ve been given.” One hand retracted to press dramatically to her chest. “It’s the burden I’m forced to bear.” 

“I’m serious, too,” came Dawn’s whining protest, but any strength put into it was ruined by how she flailed her arms to avoid falling over from the shove. “I care about serious things.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

A pause. “Like...you know, all the things Dad always talks about.” She could see when the lightbulb went off in Dawn’s head. “Like—like the spider attacks! And the visit tomorrow! I care about that more than you, Miss Runs-Off-to-Play-Soldier-at-Every-Opportunity.”

“Wow, you actually managed to think of something. I’m impressed.” 

The whack Dawn landed to her shoulder only made Marianne laugh. “Oh, shush.” 

“Ah, see? You used violence to solve a problem! I’m so proud of you.” 

Both sisters lost track of time as they sat together on Marianne’s bed, half buried in the petals and chatting between fits of laughter. Marianne couldn’t remember the last time they’d simply wasted a night away. The last time they’d acted like they were best friends as well as sisters. 

Eventually, however, reality crept in on their fun. The following day was a special one, after all. By the time Dawn heaved herself back onto her feet , moonlight cut wide swaths across the floor from the openings carved out of the far wall. 

Reluctantly Marianne forced herself to sit up. Despite the tumult of emotions she’d experienced in telling her story, she found she couldn’t stop grinning. “Thanks for listening, Dawn.”

Dawn followed suit, grabbing and pawing at Marianne’s arm to pull herself into an upright position, ignoring Marianne’s attempts to shoo her away. Then the blonde’s smile softened. “You’re welcome. See how nice this is? We could’ve been doing this a long time ago if you hadn’t kept everything to yourself.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Dawn.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” 

In a few quick strides she’d reached the door, but paused with one hand on the handle and one foot in the hallway, her head craning to look back over her shoulder. “Marianne? Try to keep an open mind about tomorrow.” A deliberate smirk quirked her lips. “You might think that the Queen’s mean or rude, but you never know; she might just be about as good at being royalty as you are.” 

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious.” But, even though she hid behind her signature snark, Marianne knew that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse—especially after the closeness that had finally returned between them. She met Dawn’s expectant look. “I’m not making any promises.”

Seemingly satisfied that her answer hadn’t been a blatant ‘no,’ Dawn nodded. “Good. ‘Night, Marianne.” 

The door clunked softly shut in her wake, and Marianne sighed. The day’s exhaustion returned full-force without her sister there as a distraction, and she flopped back onto her bed, not even bothering to change into her night-clothes. Once her eyes drifted shut it was all too easy to give in to an anxious sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always bothered me that we never actually got to see Marianne come clean about "the Roland misunderstanding" in the movie, so I wanted to include a scene where the sisters could really talk everything out. Inspiration and assistance with this chapter came from my dear friend Sam, so shoutout to her for being amazingly awesome! <3
> 
> As an apology for my slowness in updating recently, I promise that the next chapter will be posted shortly after New Years! I am _SO_ excited for the next chapter, guys, I literally can barely contain myself. To build the anticipation, allow me to divulge a few hints as to why: not only does Bog make his grand appearance (hooray!), but also... 
> 
> Some mysteries will finally be revealed. ;) It's the chapter we've all (myself included) been waiting for, guys. And it's happening _next_.
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Here it is: the promised chapter as soon after New Years as I could manage! As I said at the end of the last chapter, I'm _super_ excited to share this one with all of you! I had an unbelievable amount of fun writing it, and it's definitely my favorite chapter so far. 
> 
> And, also as promised, this is the chapter where your questions will finally be answered. B) Buckle up, my dear readers. 
> 
> It's time to meet the Queen of the Vale.

The usual hustle-and-bustle of the castle was magnified tenfold in anticipation of the Vale Queen’s arrival. More maids than Marianne ever knew worked in the place hurried from room to room, cleaning and scrubbing and dusting until every last surface of the castle was spotless. The Fairy Kingdom had had visitors before, but it seemed none were as important as she who would arrive that day. 

Marianne thought it was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if a single speck of dust on the floor would offend her, but the King wasn’t taking any chances. She couldn’t help but think that he was oddly desperate to please their visitor, even though based off of how she’d acted so far, the Queen didn’t deserve it. 

Personally Marianne wasn’t happy about the cacophony echoing through every corridor, given that it had rudely awoken her from an already fitful sleep just before dawn. After the previous day’s battle her muscles were left aching, her legs felt like they might turn to water with every step, and the wound on her arm still stung despite being wrapped in bandages overnight. 

Of course she’d feel so terribly on a day where if she so much as slumped while she stood, her father would bite off her head. He’d made a point of coming to her room that morning and giving her a final lecture about being on her best behavior, even going so far as to have an outfit made for both her and Dawn specially for the occasion. It wasn’t like he had any shortage of other things to attend to, and yet he still wasted time fussing over how every hair sat atop her head. The only reason she agreed to wear the thing was to get him off her back.  

Now Marianne regretted the decision as her shirt’s embroidered collar scratched at her neck. It was deep green and stitched with even darker thread patterned to resemble the veins in a leaf, the full-length sleeves cuffed with golden, leaf-shaped buttons. A purple vest had been layered overtop, with pointed flares at the shoulders. Brand new brown pants hugged her hips, far too stiff to be comfortable and in desperate need of a few tears—she much preferred her faded, broken-in pair, but her father had insisted on her not wearing anything he deemed to be “ratty.” A sturdy leather belt with a jeweled buckle supported her sword and sheath, and lace-up boots the color of sand made her feet swelter. 

She felt ridiculous. She felt fake. But her dad wouldn’t be reasoned with, especially after the stunt she’d pulled with the spider the day before. Marianne had a sinking suspicion that he’d be using that against her for a very long time.  

At least he’d been merciful enough not to make her wear a dress.

Mindlessly she tugged at her collar as she stood on one of the castle’s many balconies, scanning the sky for any sign of Bog—the one person who’d yet to show up to the day’s “big event.” The Queen would be arriving within the hour. Her shoulders tensed at the thought of the fit her father would throw if Bog was late. 

Deciding it wouldn’t help anything to keep checking for him every few minutes, Marianne turned on her heels and headed back inside, only to be nearly bowled over by a trio of elves struggling to carry a planter of orchids that was taller than all of them combined. She danced around them, their apologies lost in the palace’s noise. 

Walking the halls was like traversing a labyrinth. She had to duck and dodge every other step, weaving her way between the bustling crowds of palace workers all scrambling to finish the last of their duties before the Queen’s arrival. 

Marianne might never have noticed him if he hadn’t been standing completely still amidst the chaos. But once she caught a glimpse of a familiar profile through the surge, it was impossible to mistake him. 

Bog stood at the other end of the hall, towering over the other fairies, looking adorably awkward as he tried to pass through without knocking into anyone with his stupidly broad shoulders or the ever-present staff held close to his torso. Those same plated shoulders were hunched down and inward in a futile attempt to make himself smaller, only serving to jut out his elbows enough to clip a few people in the sides. Although she was too far away for the words to reach her, she could see him muttering apologies to the continual stream of people he bumped into, until, finally, he stopped altogether, standing in the center of the hallway and looking far too much like a child who’d just lost his parents as he scanned the throng of people. The ridiculousness of it all cracked a grin across her face as she fought through the crowd to him. 

“Stand there any longer and you’ll get carried away. You have to go _with the flow_ , not stand there in the middle of it,” she said as she shoved her way between a tight-knit gaggle of maids to stand at his side.

Bog started, his eyes whipping down and wings buzzing, before relief smoothed the crease in his brow. She took his hand before he could reply, “C’mon, I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

It took a few minutes of maneuvering before they emerged from the packed hallway and into an open corridor. The temperature change went from stifling to a-bit-less-so. Regardless, it let her breathe easier than being surrounded on all sides. 

“I’ve never seen the castle this busy,” Bog commented gruffly, his gaze lingering on the crowd they’d left behind. She detected a hint of embarrassment in the way he shifted his shoulders. He still stood with his arms pressed close to his sides. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day we have a _special visitor_.”

The mockery in her tone was enough to draw his attention back to her. “It doesn’t—” But he stopped once he caught sight of her. His mouth opened and closed once, then twice, as his gaze traveled over her pristine new outfit. Clearing his throat, it took a moment longer than it should have for him to continue, “That is, um—did I cause all this the first time I came here?”

“No,” she said simply, a touch of mirth in her eyes. “But at that point we’d already made peace with _you_.”

“Is all this—” Bog gestured back to the pulsing hallway with a pursed expression, “—supposed to make her want peace?”

Taking his hand again, Marianne led him down the corridor, navigating the necessary twists and turns that would lead them to the palace’s main entrance. “I don’t see how shiny floors and flower arrangements will help either, but Dad seems to be convinced. If anything I’d think if she saw all this, she’d realize how desperate we are.” 

Bog grunted his agreement. His staff made a rhythmic _clunking_ as it tapped against the floor. “Have you heard anything else since her first letter?”

Marianne shook her head. “Not since she ‘accepted the Fairy Kingdom’s generous invitation.’ All she told us was when to expect her—not who she’s coming with, what she’s like, nothing. But for some reason I’m the only one who finds that at all suspicious.” 

“I don’t know much about the Vale, but what I’ve heard doesn’t convince me that any of this will matter.”

“Gabriel didn’t seem convinced either, but I don’t think even he got through to Dad.” She quirked a brow at the thought of her family’s meeting with the advisor the day before. “You’re lucky you missed his lecture. All he did was say what I’ve been saying all along in a lot more syllables.” 

But Bog’s expression was equally sour when she looked back at him, and Marianne couldn’t help a smirk. “But...from the looks of that face, I’d guess the construction planning didn’t go much better?”    

His knuckles cracked where he gripped his staff. The frustration scrunching his features had become an all-too-familiar expression. “I swear, I have to do everything myself. It’ll be a miracle if Thang and Stuff can keep the castle standing until I get back.” 

“They’re something else, that’s for sure.” She’d never understand how those two got to be Bog’s right-hand helpers. Although, to be fair, she didn’t have anyone better in mind. Bog’s ‘forces’ weren’t exactly formidable. As bumbling as they were, Thang and Stuff were two of the most competent, unfortunately for Bog’s short temper.

Marianne gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “At least if it’s destroyed again, it’ll all be on them. I want nothing to do with a repeat of that disaster.” 

The brunette did well at hiding her true feelings about that day. Thinking about how the Dark Forest castle had been destroyed always caused a pain in the princess’s chest. There’d been a moment when she’d thought she’d lost Bog forever. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he’d pulled himself out and avoided being crushed.

But, considering that everyone had made it out fine, Marianne saw no reason not to laugh about it now, especially when it helped to mask how she really felt.  

Bog’s tone was dry. “That’s not funny.” 

She grinned. “Who’s laughing? Seriously, the progress on the new castle is looking great. Last time I was there, it was like a perfect replica of the original—questionable construction work and all. I’m sure Thang and Stuff are to blame for that, too.”

His lip twitched upward, and she could tell that he was trying not to be amused. “Plum’s been helping, but she isn’t much better.” A shudder traveled down his spine. “She’ll be here for the visit, too, so they should actually get some work done without all her blasted singing.” 

Marianne laughed, picturing Sugar Plum belting out a song to a chorus of dropped tools when the Darklings all scrambled to cover their ears. “I can’t picture her being much help, but at least she’s an extra pair of hands.”  

“Yes, well...” Bog trailed off as he glanced away, his fingers drumming along the length of his staff. “Soon—you know, when it’s finished—would you, uh, like to come see? I could show you around, if you want. Around the new castle.” 

The sudden softness of his tone made her pause, halting them both in the center of the hallway. Even after two months together, Bog still got nervous about the simplest things. And, even after two months, Marianne still found it endearing. “Oh, trust me,” she said as she stepped close enough so they were chest-to-chest. Their proximity made his free hand rest on her upper arm, and the familiar weight helped to ground her in the moment, staving off any worrisome thoughts about what the next hour would bring. Her voice dropped to a whisper as if what she was about to say was a great secret, “Whenever it’s done, I expect a very _thorough_ tour.” 

She relished in the way his eyebrows shot up, a hint of pink instantly seeping into his cheeks. In fact, she could only grin mischievously as he stuttered in such an endearing way that Dawn’s love-dusted nicknames for him suddenly seemed incredibly apt. The pet-name ‘Boggie-Bear’ had never been more relevant than when he stood there openly gaping, his expression befuddled and admittedly adorable. 

“Y-you—? I mean, u-um, well. G-good, that’s...good...” But his answering stutters were soon swallowed by horns blaring outside. 

Still grinning, Marianne dragged tantalizing fingers across his collarbone as she moved to glance out the nearest window, as if she could see the sound waves of the horns in the air. Her fingers re-threaded with his when she turned back. At least he’d have plenty of time to compose himself before they got outside. “That’s the signal: she’ll be here soon. Come on, I’ll fill you in on what you missed on the way.” 

The horns echoed continuously as the pair made their way through the bowels of the castle, announcing that their guest had been spotted at the border of the Fairy Kingdom. It was enough to throw the staff into even more of a frenzy; Marianne tried to lead them along the path of least resistance, taking the corridors least likely to be crowded. By the time they finally emerged from the palace’s main gates, the welcoming committee had already gotten into position. 

A line of royal guards stood at attention along either side of the path leading up to the castle doors. They wore their best armor, rich green and lined with gold, twinkling under the early morning sun.  

Springtime flowers had been brought in from the fields around Elf Town and placed in towering vases at intervals along the path, white branches jutting from the center of each and curving inward to create archways of twisted boughs. Even the entryway to the castle had been decorated with matching blossoms and intricately woven garlands of grass and vines. 

Marianne barely paid any of it any mind, aside from a smirk when she heard Bog mutter at her side, “I definitely didn’t cause all _this_ the first time.”  

The King was having a last-minute talk with Captain Alastair when Bog and Marianne reached the others, no doubt going over final details if his wild gesturing down the walkway was any indication. Dawn, on the other hand, rushed to meet them with even more of a skip in her step than usual. Her pale pink gown was embroidered with delicate patterns in shimmering gold; flowers and leaves wove along the hemline and up towards the seam at her waist. A gold-dusted rose peeked out from her hair, and the points of her collar sparkled with inset crystals. One hand held up the folds of her skirt while the other was hidden behind her back.

“There you guys are! Marianne, you’ve really got to stop cutting it so close—Dad nearly had a heart attack, thinking you were going to be late again.” 

Her sister’s nagging was easily ignored in favor of scanning the sky. “We made it, didn’t we? There been any sign of her yet?” 

“Not yet, but she has to be close. Dad says only a few minutes, at most. Which means I only have a few minutes to make sure you guys look presentable. Starting with this!” Removing the hand from behind her back, Dawn hopped forward and stuck a purple and green boutonniere to Bog’s chest before darting back again. 

Bog flinched backwards; his entire body went momentarily rigid before snapping back to normal. Dawn looked supremely proud of herself. Marianne stifled a laugh.

Bog’s questioning gaze looked down at the boutonniere, jaw agape, before raising a brow at the blonde. “Again?” 

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t _mean_ anything this time,” Dawn reassured with a shake of her head. “Since the rest of us are all dressed up, I thought you could use a little something, too. Someone here has to care about first impressions.”

But Bog’s eyes were wary, and he took an almost imperceptible step back. “Does this mean you’re going to start singing?”

Dawn huffed, puffing out her cheeks. “Unlike _some people_ , I actually appreciate the opportunity to dress up.”

Marianne piped up to clarify, “In other words: she’s the only one who’s excited about the new outfits that Dad made us wear.” 

“Um, yeah,” Dawn stated as if it was the most obvious sentiment in the world. “Why wouldn’t I be? A new dress, and meeting new royalty?” To punctuate her excitement, the blonde spun in a full circle, the scalloped hem of her skirt rising to give the temporary illusion of a blooming flower. “I still can’t believe you’re not excited, Marianne. Besides, you look great! Really, you should make an effort to wear clean clothes more often.” 

“I look ridiculous,” Marianne countered. ‘“Everyone here knows I’d never wear this if I had a choice.”

“Yeah, but _she_ won’t know that. Don’t give it away, and you’ll fit right in with the rest of us civilized fairies.” Dawn turned her gaze back onto Bog, who stood fiddling with the individual petals of the boutonniere and looking generally uncomfortable about its presence. “Quit that! If you break it, I’m not fixing it for you.” 

Bog gave her a withering look, to which she simply shrugged. “I even made it match Marianne’s outfit. You’re welcome.” 

A realization hit the brunette then, and she pointed an accusing finger at her sister. “Hey, wait, how did you—you knew what Dad was going to make me wear, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. As if Dad knows anything about fashion. And,” Dawn added while returning Marianne’s jabbing point, “I’m the one who convinced him to not make you wear a dress. So maybe you should think about that before you act all grumpy.”

Marianne pursed her lips. Brown eyes flicked to Bog, who was still frowning down at the boutonniere, then to her sister’s confident grin. “Thanks,” she begrudgingly muttered. 

Dawn nodded. “And that’s all I wanted to hear.”

Heavy footsteps drew Marianne’s attention over Dawn’s shoulder, where the Fairy King approached their small gathering. He too had donned his finest armor for the occasion: a more ornate version of what the guards wore, with elaborate gold patterns etched into the chest plate and shoulder pads, accenting the large golden leaf in the center of his chest. He scrutinized each of them in turn—his gaze momentarily catching on Bog’s new accessory—before nodding in approval. 

There was a moment of silence where Marianne held her breath. Her father was still...unsure about both of his daughter's new relationships, but after how long he and Bog had lived at odds, her own relationship was even more difficult for him to accept. He had so much pride, but he also knew that Bog made her truly _happy_. An unspoken tension still lingered between them, but at least they were both trying. It was the best she could have hoped for. 

Finally, the Fairy King attempted a small smile, and he held out a hand. “Glad you could make it, Bog. This wouldn’t be right without you here.” 

It only took a moment of hesitation for Bog to return the gesture. He gave one firm shake before letting go. “Thank you. I’m...glad to be here.” He cast a quick glance down at Marianne, and she smiled reassuringly. 

“This is a celebration, after all!” her father continued. “With all of us here, we can show that our new alliance is holding strong and, with luck, prove that the Vale Queen should also ally with us.” King Julian seemed almost too pleased with the idea. He looked to his daughters, then, although Marianne got the distinct impression his words were meant for her. “Now, I expect you both to be on your best behavior. No sassing, no being rude, and no more crazy stunts. We want to make a good first impression, right?”

Dawn clasped her hands together, looking like the picture of a perfect princess. “Right! Because first impressions—”

“—are forever,” their father finished with a grin. “That’s my girl.” He fixed Marianne with a stern look. “Marianne, I—”

“I know, I know.” She held up her hands in deference, although she barely resisted rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not to offend her _delicate sensibilities_.” Bog snorted at her side, but still she kept her features composed.

“ _Marianne_...”

She groaned. “ _Okay_ , Dad. Really. I promise I’ll be good.”

The King held her gaze for a long moment. Whether it was her ability to hold his stare or the blaring of the second warning horn that made him deem her answer acceptable, she’d likely never know, but as the next signal announced that the Queen was about to arrive, Marianne caught a flash of trust in her father’s eyes that made her defiance petter out. 

“Here she comes!” Dawn squealed, pointing to where a handful of blurred shapes were barely visible in the distance. Latching onto her father’s hand, she began dragging him towards their place at the head of the pathway. “Come on, come on!”

The King barely had time to laugh before he let himself be pulled away. “Alright, alright,” he chuckled. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at Bog and Marianne, he flashed a final smile to his daughter before turning forward and following Dawn to where the series of arches ended at the entryway to the castle. 

As soon as King Julian turned his back, Bog went back to fidgeting with the boutonniere. 

Marianne sucked in a deep breath. Uncertainty sparked in brown eyes as she watched the figures in the distance slowly come closer; there were at least a dozen that she could see, all of which approached via the air, appearing to be riding varying sorts of small creatures. The number of unknowns made dread pool in the pit of her stomach. 

In an attempt to ignore her mounting nerves, the brunette turned to Bog, gently batting his hands away from where he’d been arranging the boutonniere’s petals against his chest. “Let me,” she said. She made quick work of fluffing the petals again, smoothing out a few creases where he’d managed to bend them after only a few minutes of wearing it. As she worked, her attention pointedly focused on the rumpled flowers, Bog’s hand moved to cover her own, holding both of her smaller hands in one of his to stop her fidgeting. 

“Marianne.” His voice was soft, enticing her gaze up to meet his. There was a pause, his other hand flexing on his royal staff. “You look beautiful.” 

The princess blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Hey now, don’t get all cheesy on me, tiger. If you make me swoon, my dad will never forgive you for wrecking my precious first impression.”

Bog chuckled, but his expression was open and sincere. “I mean it. You don’t look fake, you look...like you’re ready, to meet this person and handle whatever she throws at you.” 

“I _am_ ready.” Marianne’s voice came out firm, much to her surprise. She offered Bog a knowing grin. “I always keep my guard up, remember? Now come on,” she said, and pulled him down for a kiss. 

Instantly Bog’s kiss melted the tension from her shoulders, and she twined her fingers with his. When they parted her usual confidence had returned. “The sooner this visit starts, the sooner it’ll be over with.” 

The pair met Dawn and the Fairy King at the head of the path. Dawn bounced on her heels at their father’s left side, while Marianne planted her feet to his right, with Bog at her other side. Her hands twitched, itching to grab hold of her sword. As the dots in the distance neared, taking shape enough for her to confirm the forms of a dozen creatures riding upon insects, Marianne forced herself to breathe deeply and to keep her expression composed. 

Nothing about the Vale Queen suggested that she was worthy of Marianne’s trust. She couldn’t afford to show any hint of weakness. Dawn and her father might fall over themselves to please this woman, but Marianne would be a pillar of strength. She would show the intrusive Queen that the Fairy Kingdom deserved—no, _demanded_ —her respect. 

A fanfare began, triumphant horns bolstered by the cheers of the elves and fairyfolk who had gathered behind the guards lining both sides of the path. Somehow, despite the chaos and excitement of the crowd, her father remained a picture of regality. Glancing at him out the corner of her eye, Marianne straightened to imitate his posture, hoping to exude even a fraction of the composure that he did. 

But suddenly the trumpet call was splintered by a piercing caw. Marianne flinched, the sound grating down her spine, but she managed to resist covering her ears. Her heartbeat raced as, seemingly from nowhere, a crow swooped towards the approaching party. But rather than attacking, it moved into line with the newcomers, taking a place at the back of the formation as the rest of the riders formed two single-file columns in front. It screeched as its wings pounded the air. Marianne caught a few of the guards closest to the royal family gritting their teeth against the sound. 

The change was small at first. As the first of the formation touched down, the people crowded at the far end of the path shifted, moving away from the lines of guards. Marianne assumed they were giving the landing party space, but as more and more of the riders landed, the leaders of the formation marching towards the royals atop their mounts, whispers and horrified gasps tickled Marianne’s ears. The crowd collectively recoiled. 

Her father stiffened at her side. Even Bog reached out a hand to rest on the small of her back, his armored shoulders prickling. 

Marianne’s eyes widened. 

The visitors thundered down the aisle on the backs of insects: dragonflies, beetles, even a cicada tromped beneath the archways, hissing as it passed each guard. But their mounts weren’t what caused Dawn to squeak and inch closer to their father, or the King to rest a firm hand on his youngest daughter’s shoulder. It was the Vale Dwellers themselves. 

They were monsters—hideous amalgamations of normal creatures. As each rider reached the open circle at the head of the aisle where Marianne and the others waited, half broke off to the left while the other half went right, passing directly before Marianne’s stunned gaze as they realigned in a crescent formation on either side of the royal family. Each creature that passed before her eyes only set her more on edge.

A creature that would have resembled Thang, if not for its enormous, insect-like eyes and buzzing wings.

A snail coated in scales rode atop a beetle, a lizard-like head peeking out from beneath its shell.

The next Marianne had thought was a mount, but had no rider as it passed: its body was bird-shaped, with bright blue feathers erupting from its tail—but the rest of it was covered with shimmering greenish plates, and its wings looked like layers of translucent silk. 

An Elf that had paws instead of hands and feet and fur growing out of every inch of visible skin, nearly obscuring its beady black eyes.

An Imp chittered at her next, boring into her with insect eyes. Its ears were perked straight up, and were curved and bowed like butterfly wings. Forked antennae twitched where its tail should have been. 

Finally, a birdbeak with muscles thicker than any goblin she’d ever seen sneered as its mount stopped directly in front of the eldest princess.

A stone dropped in Marianne’s gut. The realization of what the creatures were hit her with enough force to make her bite back a wince. 

Halflings. They were all Halflings. 

She’d known that such creatures existed. After all, Bog had told her about his own mixed parentage long ago: his father had been a fairy from her own kingdom. But she’d never thought there would be _more_. Given how recently travel over the border between kingdoms had been legalized, Halflings were an extremely rare case. Bog was the only instance she’d heard of in her lifetime. 

How was it that they now stood surrounded by those same creatures, having had no idea their numbers were so great?

Movement from the opposite side of the formation snatched Marianne’s gaze in time for her to witness a massive creature dismount its beetle. It would have looked just like a goblin, if she were to ignore the wide-set ears, clawed fingers, and beak jutting from its face. The birdbeak from her own side also disembarked, leering at the stunned royals as it lumbered over to stand beside its comrade. Its small stature was almost laughable in comparison.

It wasn’t until the Halfling’s motions stopped and silence descended upon those who’d gathered that Marianne realized the cheering and jubilant horns had long-since ceased. The quiet in the air was so thick that Marianne was suffocating in it, straining to keep her expression calm and to breathe without choking. The hair on the back of her neck prickled from the tension. 

Just as her father inhaled to break the silence, the larger goblin creature spoke up in a voice that rumbled like colliding stones, “Fairy Kingdom and Dark Forest royalty, the Halflings of the Vale are honored to present our fair and exalted ruler, Queen Elmiria of the Vale.” 

With matching grand gestures, the two creatures spun and faced the opposite end of the pathway, hands fisting as they crossed their arms in an X over their chests. 

Marianne’s attention followed the motion to where the crow still stood tall at the starting point of the aisle, its feathers puffed and wings hunched as if poised to take flight at any moment. Its onyx eyes flicked over the gathered faces faster than Marianne could track. 

The crowd held its breath. But still, the crow did not move. 

Seconds dragged into minutes; every eye was latched onto the motionless crow, every breath held in anticipation. Marianne flattened her hands against her pants to prevent them from fisting. As if the introductory parade of snarling Halflings wasn’t enough, making them wait was obviously a power play. Despite having no idea what she looked like, especially now, Marianne could picture the Queen watching them fidget from behind the crow. A fresh plume of disgust flared in her chest. If _Elmiria_ thought she could intimidate her, she was dead wrong. 

Finally the crow twitched. Its feathers flattened, and with a final squawk, it ducked down and started forward, sharp talons scraping against the dirt as it walked. It barely fit beneath the archways; every few steps its tail would bump one of the vases, or a feather would catch on a branch and snap it free with a _crack_.  

The bird towered above Marianne and her family. When it stopped in front of them, she was forced to tilt her head back to keep its frenetic gaze, and her thoughts raced. Based on the lack of reaction from the stunned crowd, the crow was managing to conceal its rider from countless sets of prying eyes. 

Shouts for the Queen to show herself bubbled to her lips, but she bit her tongue. Just as Marianne thought she might burst from frustrated anticipation, the crow shifted, turning sideways so that its left flank faced the line of royals.  

No matter how hard the welcoming party tried to hide it, Marianne could feel the collective sigh of relief pass through the gathered crowd as, when the crow finally lowered its wings to reveal its rider, the face that greeted them was perfectly _normal_. 

But, while the rest of the crowd seemed put at ease, the instant Queen Elmiria was visible, Bog went rigid at her side. The prick of claws at her back as well as a harsh intake of breath drew Marianne’s gaze to him.

She’d never seen him so shocked. His widened eyes bordered on alarmed, staring at Elmiria as if he’d just seen a ghost. Every muscle was so taught that he looked as if he’d snap if nudged the wrong way. She’d seen him flustered, but this was something else entirely.  

Her attention moved back to the crow, determined to find what about the Queen had put Bog so on edge. It took a moment for Marianne to differentiate the crow’s rider from its feathers, but once she had, a breath was pulled past her lips. She couldn’t help but be stunned—and slightly annoyed—by the Queen’s beauty. 

Striking violet eyes watched them from a heart-shaped face; high cheekbones and a thin nose gave her an air of perfection. Her neck was swan-like, and her skin was dark as the night sky, shimmering in the sunlight as if dotted with stars. Silken, ebony hair tumbled past her shoulders, just tickling where her collar bone met a low-cut shirt of royal blue. Combined together, her dark skin and hair made her barely discernible from her crow’s glossy black feathers, aside from lips so red it looked as though she’d just drank a glass of blood. 

Ever so slowly a serene smile graced her features. The look was so gentle that the Fairy King relaxed slightly, a similar effect rippling over the audience. But Marianne only bristled. Elmiria was _too_ perfect. Her expression may have seemed kind, but Marianne caught a sharpness in her eyes that was unsettling. If Bog had reacted with such unease, there had to be something wrong here, something that she couldn’t quite see. 

An entirely different type of silence washed over the crowd as the Queen went to speak. The voice that flowed from between full lips was sweet and musical, carrying an accent that, although Marianne had never heard before, was captivating. 

“Fairy King Julian.” His name rolled off Elmiria’s tongue like thick honey. Her words were crisp and formal; despite her gentle tone, her voice echoed across the entire courtyard. “I can’t say how delighted I am that you accepted my invitation.”

Peeling his hand from Dawn’s shoulder, the King took a step forward, offering a bow. “It’s an honor to have you in our kingdom, Queen Elmiria.”

Her lips twitched slightly as her gaze followed the motion of the King’s bow. “Indeed. I assure you, the honor is all mine. I’ve brought with me some of my best men,” Elmiria went on, sweeping her arms out to the sides to indicate the ranks of Halflings, whose expressions were all similar versions of disparaging smiles, “but allow me to introduce Havok and Marek.” She gestured to the hulking goblin creature, then to the smaller beaked goblin in turn, the same two who had given her introduction. “They are my two most trusted men. I’m sure they’ll all be treated with the finest hospitality, like myself.” 

The King stood straight again, a smile plastered to his face. “Of course. The Fairy Kingdom would give no less to such esteemed guests.” 

As Marianne watched the exchange, she couldn’t help but be impressed by her father’s composure. If he was at all perturbed by the sneers of Elmiria’s men, his expression didn’t betray anything. 

Her own composure cracked in the slightest, however, when Elmiria’s sharp eyes abruptly landed on the eldest princess as if reading her thoughts. Marianne blinked once, then forced her expression to remain stoic. It was a battle to keep herself from glaring. 

But, almost as quickly as she’d captured it, the Queen’s attention fell back on her father—only for him to flinch along with the entire welcoming committee when the crow let out a halted screech, a ripple traveling through its feathers from its head down to its tail. Elmiria didn’t so much at bat an eyelash. Suddenly tender, she leaned closer to the bird’s head, elegant fingers gently stroking through the feathers along its neck. 

“Don’t mind him,” Elmiria said to the gathered royals between cooing sounds. “Archon gets a bit nervous around others. I’m afraid he doesn’t have much experience with...foreigners.” 

Marianne bristled. She glanced at her dad to see if he’d caught her momentarily derogatory tone, but uncertainty obscured anything else in his expression. 

“Understandable, when in a strange place,” the King remarked slowly. His fingers flexed at his sides. “Would he...We’d be happy to have Archon in the stables with the dragonflies, if he’d like to stay close by. No crowds, of course, only the stable hands.”

But Elmiria didn’t even seem to hear. Marianne watched in mild fascination as, with soft words that she couldn’t make out, the Queen laid a hand flat atop the crow’s head, ever so slowly moving it back towards herself in a drawn-out pet. Another shudder ruffled the bird’s feathers, but afterwards, it turned its head back and snapped lightly at Elmiria’s shoulder. The Queen grinned, patting its beak and whispering, “Down, Archon, down.” 

The crow lowered itself to the ground, ducking its head and folding its wings beneath its belly to allow the Queen to disembark. The moment she moved to do so, however, Marianne stiffened with the realization that the Queen was not at all what she seemed. 

With unparalleled grace the Queen dismounted, revealing her true self to the stunned Fairy Kingdom dwellers as eight sleek spider legs materialized out of the camouflage of the crow’s feathers.

This time the crowd’s gasp was audible. If Elmiria noticed the shuffle that traveled down the line of the royal family, she didn’t comment. Only Bog seemed unaffected by the revelation; his entire body was still just as rigid, but Marianne couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from Elmiria to gauge his expression. 

From the waist up, Elmiria was the picture of regality and beauty. But where two humanoid legs should have been, the lower half of her body was instead that of a spider, black and glossy. A “shoe” of shimmering gold adorned the tip of each leg, fashioned into a wicked point that left punctures in the ground where she walked. 

And, furthering the crowd’s horror, a red hourglass shape marked the back of her spider’s abdomen. 

Half black widow, half fairy. 

The true Queen of the Halflings stood before them. 

Elmiria stopped only a few paces away from the royal family, her expression neutral and seeming completely unperturbed. Glancing down the line at her father’s wide eyes and Dawn’s obvious unease, Marianne knew there was no way she hadn’t noticed their reactions. Expecting to find him just as horrified, she swiveled her gaze to Bog.

He stood completely motionless. It felt as though his hand had turned to stone against her back. But now, the glint in his eyes had changed. He squinted at Elmiria, scrutinizing her more intently than Marianne had ever seen him study anything. Although he did seem surprised, she got the distinct feeling that it wasn’t for the same reason as the rest of them; his eyes only focused on her face, completely ignoring the rest of her body. 

A strange feeling flared in Marianne’s chest, but she shoved it down, knowing that now wasn’t the time. Gritting her teeth, she looked back to Elmiria just as she spoke. 

“Thank you for the kind offer, but Archon doesn’t do well in confined spaces. He’ll be better off flying about for the duration of my stay.” As if to emphasize her words, the crow cawed plaintively, only stopping when Elmiria made a shooing gesture, fanning her fingers at the bird over her shoulder. 

Without warning, Archon’s wings spread wide and he took off. The unexpected force may have knocked Marianne off her feet had Bog’s arm not been behind her. Angling her face away from the wind, brown eyes squinted against the sun to watch the bird become nothing more than an ominous, black silhouette against the sky, casting flickering shadows down on the kingdom as it circled the courtyard. 

King Julian’s expression was nothing short of stunned. While he managed to keep from gaping, he blinked repeatedly up at the crow’s form, swallowing several times before he looked down at Elmiria. “I...see. Very good. Whatever keeps him happy.”

Clearing his throat, the King straightened further, and Marianne could practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to gain back control of the situation. “A sincere welcome to you and your entire party, Your Majesty. If you’d allow me to introduce my two daughters—”

But Elmiria cut him off with a raised hand. “Let me see if I can guess.” She turned to Dawn first, steady eyes observing her from head to toe. Peering down the line to watch, Marianne was proud when Dawn managed not to fidget with the discomfort she could read in her blue eyes. 

Elmiria’s voice was low, contemplative, “Glowing, radiant, poised; with such grace to be fitting of any princess.” The compliments brought a smile to Dawn’s face, to which Elmiria offered a knowing grin. “And a smile like sunshine. You must be young Princess Dawn.” Elmiria gave as much of a curtsey as she could, nothing more than a dip at the waist and graceful flutter of her arms. The foreignness of such a familiar gesture was unnerving. But the moment Elmiria looked back up with her sickeningly sweet smile, Marianne knew Dawn couldn’t resist her charm. 

Blonde hair bobbed in all directions as Dawn nodded. “Yeah—thanks! It’s, uh...it’s nice to meet you, Your Majesty.”

Elmiria’s eyes were kind. “The same to you, dear. And don’t worry, I don’t take your fear to heart. I know I’m not exactly what you’re used to.” 

And just like that Dawn’s smile vanished, replaced with mild alarm and wide eyes. “R-really? I-I mean, um—No, no, I-I didn’t—”

But the Queen shushed her with a gentle motion. “It’s quite alright. I take no offense.” Elmiria raised a hand and gently brushed a lock of flaxen hair from Dawn’s face, violet eyes studying her startled features. “Such a delicate flower. It’s no wonder you’re afraid; so sweet and pure. But fear not. I promise I’m not as scary as I look.”

Luckily for her, Elmiria then turned her attention away from the youngest princess. Marianne had been just about ready to jump to her sister’s defense, accusing the Queen of _forcing_ such reactions out of them by being so vague in her letter. She didn’t care if her father disapproved. She didn’t like the way the Queen looked at Dawn: as if she was _sweet and pure_ enough to eat. 

“Then you,” Elmiria started again, turning to face Marianne, “must be dear Princess Marianne. You’ve accomplished what not many others could have. I believe congratulations are in order.” 

Marianne was quiet for half a moment, weighing the Queen’s sincerity and willing herself not to snap when she spoke, “Yeah, well, thank you, but—”

“It must have been quite the feat to get the almighty Bog King to fall in love with you,” Elmiria interrupted as her gaze slid to where Bog stood at her side. Even though he didn’t move, Marianne could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. With little more than a haughty smirk in Marianne’s direction, the Queen again moved down the line to stand in front of Bog. The brunette’s chest puffed, a few choice words about Elmiria’s rudeness bubbling to her lips, but again she forced herself to remain quiet. 

Which wouldn’t be a problem for long, as a moment later she was stunned into silence. 

Elmiria’s grin stretched from ear to ear, revealing pearly white teeth as well as a pair of sizable fangs. “Bog, darling, how have you been? It’s been quite some time since we last met, hasn’t it?” she said as nonchalantly as if she were commenting on the weather.

The words knocked the air from Marianne’s lungs. Shocked brown eyes jerked to Bog, her brows disappearing into her hairline. They _knew_ each other? So that was what had spooked him so badly when Elmiria first appeared: Bog had recognized her. 

Bog’s features were pinched, but he’d managed to school his expression from his previous gaping. “Yes,” he finally replied. “Years, actually.” 

Elmiria pressed a hand against her chest. “My, has it been so long? Well, now that I’m here, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up. I can’t wait to hear all about how you managed to woo _this_ little creature.” Violet eyes flicked pointedly to Marianne. “But our chat will have to wait for a later time; I’m rather worn out from the long trip.”

“Ah, yes—” King Julian interjected, stepping forward and effectively forcing Elmiria to give him her attention. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. Allow my men to escort you and your retinue to your chambers.” He gave a wave of his hand to the guards that lined the path behind Elmiria’s men, and half a dozen armored fairy guards stepped forward, moving to line up beside the King. Each guard gave a humble bow. 

The Vale Queen watched them, the press of her lips distinctly unimpressed. “Wonderful,” she said after a moment, clucking her tongue, “if not impersonal. I had hoped to have the chance to get to know my hosts as soon as possible.”

The King was quick to allay her disappointment. “I assure Your Majesty that we’d like nothing more. In fact, I’ve planned a banquet in your honor for tomorrow night. All of the Fairy Kingdom’s finest will be there, and all very anxious to hear from you, I’m sure.”

Still reeling from the last bombshell, Marianne turned startled eyes to the back of her father’s head. Since when were they throwing this woman a _banquet_? Wasn’t it enough that they’d agreed to host her without hardly any warning? Now her father had gone even more out of his way to plan a feast all for someone who had the nerve to not even look mildly grateful for the King’s generosity. 

At least Elmiria troubled herself enough to give a demure gasp. “A banquet? King Julian, you’re too kind.”

But her words were politely waved off as the King stood taller. “It’s no trouble at all, the least we could do to welcome you to our kingdom.” Before he continued, however, the King paused, and Marianne saw the exact moment when a thought came to him. She was powerless to stop it as her father nudged Dawn forward with a renewed grip on her shoulder. “In fact, allow Dawn to escort you to your room, Your Majesty. I’m sure she’d be delighted.”

The moment the words left his lips, Dawn stiffened, blinking for a moment as if struggling to understand. “Me?” she practically squeaked, giving her dad a pleading look over her shoulder that was anything but subtle.

A look that was completely ignored by the King. Clearly it hadn’t been a suggestion. “Go on,” he said, patting Dawn’s shoulder. “We’ve prepared our finest guest room for the Queen. You know the one.”

For once Elmiria actually seemed pleased. “A perfect idea,” she said, inching forward on scuttling legs. “I’m sure the young princess and I will find much to talk about.” With a curtsey to the Fairy King, Elmiria skirted around the line of fairy soldiers and headed towards the castle gates. Reacting a split second later, Dawn spun on her heel, catching her sister’s eye for just a moment before trotting after the Queen. The earlier skip in her step was noticeably absent. 

Marianne’s thoughts reeled as Elmiria’s men began to parade past once again, following after the fairy soldiers who led them to the castle. Part of her wanted nothing more than to demand an explanation of Bog. But considering her father had just thrown her little sister to the wolves, Bog’s reaming could wait a few minutes.

The remaining royals were silent as Elmiria’s men filed through the doors. Tension thickened the air between them. Every time Marianne tried to catch Bog’s eye he purposely looked away, and her father was dutifully grinning at each Halfling in turn, offering them welcomes to the kingdom. Marianne stood silently stewing between them, gnawing at the inside of her cheek to keep herself from exploding while their _esteemed guests_ were still in earshot. 

The second the palace doors closed, she wheeled on her father, only keeping her voice low out of consideration for the crowd still gathered behind them, “How can you just let Dawn go off with her? Send someone else!” 

“Someone else?” The Fairy King crossed his arms, giving Marianne a look that showed he’d been expecting her outrage. “Someone like you? She wanted a more personal escort, and after the obvious displeasure you’ve expressed about her even being here, I wasn’t about to send you with her.” 

“Then why not go yourself? Technically _you’re_ her ‘gracious host,’ not Dawn. We still know nothing about her! Aren’t you worried about Dawn at all?” 

Julian’s shoulders rolled back in exasperation. “For goodness sakes, Marianne, you’re acting like Queen Elmiria will cocoon her up and eat her as an afternoon snack!”

Before she could say that was a very real possibility for all they knew, her retort was silenced by her father’s sternly pointing finger. “I asked Dawn to go because she was obviously frightened. Elmiria’s going to be staying here for the foreseeable future, and I don’t want Dawn to be afraid of a guest in her own home. Hopefully this way they can have some time to talk and she’ll be more comfortable.”

“Still,” Marianne conceded after a few long moments of silence, “how do we know we can trust her?”

The King sighed. “She’s a diplomatic guest, Marianne. She’s here to celebrate the Dark Forest’s new peace with us—and hopefully she’ll choose to enter into it too. Need I remind you of how wrong you were last time you didn’t give someone a chance?”

The brunette gaped at him, heat rising to her cheeks against her will. She pinned her father with a scathing look, but it had little effect. 

Leaning forward, King Julian put a steady hand on her shoulder, and she hated the glint in his eye that showed he knew he’d said the right thing to win. “If you can forgive Bog for kidnapping her, I think you can forgive Elmiria for _walking_ with her. Have a little faith, dear. Being different doesn’t automatically make her bad. If anything, our alliance with the Dark Forest should have taught us that much.”

With one last gentle smile, the King turned away, waving Alastair over and instantly entering into a deep discussion. Still frustrated, Marianne let out a harsh breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, blowing a wild lock of hair from her forehead. Stubborn as she was, she knew her dad was right. But even so, something about Elmiria was different; something in Marianne’s gut told her that the Queen couldn’t be trusted, at least not yet. Not until she proved she deserved it.

Marianne’s lips pressed into a thin line. Maybe _Bog_ could shed some light on things.

But when she turned on her heel once again, mouth open and finger poised to poke him in the chest, Bog was nowhere to be seen. For a moment she simply stood there in disbelief, brown eyes scanning the slowly dwindling crowd for the signature point of his shoulders or glint from his staff. She didn’t want to believe that he’d just run off, not after everything that had just come to light. But her hesitance to accept the truth didn’t make it any less real. 

Her fists curled at her sides. A sour taste invaded her mouth as suspicion crept in around her denial. 

Bog was the only one who really knew what was going on, and he was gone.    


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygoodness everyone, I am _so_ sorry for the delay in updating! Between job hunting and literally drowning in the number of personal writing projects I've started lately, it took me way longer than I wanted to get this next chapter out. Have some Dawn POV to make up for it? ;3;
> 
> Also, I want to express my deepest and sincerest gratitude to everyone who has taken the time to leave kudos or comments on this story! You guys are the ones who give me the motivation to keep this monster going, I swear. I was fairly nervous about posting the previous chapter and what everyone would think of Elmiria, but your comments were so positive that it _actually_ left me feeling warm and fuzzy inside, like no exaggeration. You guys are the best~
> 
> Finally, if you have questions or comments about this story, or even if you just wanna say hi, please feel free to visit me on Tumblr @casiosiris294! I'd love to hear from you! Enjoy my lovelies! <3

_‘Why did Dad have to send me off with her?’_ Dawn thought for the thousandth time as she walked at Elmiria’s side. She’d seen how close Marianne had been to exploding as she’d led Elmiria away—for a moment Dawn had even wished her sister would do just that, if only to save herself from being alone with the Queen. 

She wanted to think her dad couldn’t be mad if she was genuinely uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like she could _say_ that was the case. Dawn had been raised to be polite and poised, and had been ingrained with a high regard for first impressions. So long as the Queen was present, Dawn would never protest aloud. Now her cheeks puffed with indignation as she realized that her dad had likely known as much.

At least no one could blame her for being nervous. Being the first of the royal family to spend time with the Queen would have been intimidating even if she was, well, _normal_. 

She might not understand all the politics Marianne and her dad batted around, but even the young princess knew that because the people of the Vale were Halflings, their possible alliance had become much more important. After all, they were Bog’s people, in a way. They were strong and organized if their little display when they’d arrived was anything to go by—definitely not a people the Fairy Kingdom or Dark Forest wanted as enemies.

Not that she thought it would come to that. Unless, of course, she royally messed up and offended the Queen somehow, driving her to turn on all of them and—  

Okay, this was _way_ too much pressure! For once she wished she had Marianne’s uncontrollable temper, at least enough to say no to her dad once in awhile. There was no way she could handle this on her own!

Sweat trailed down the back of Dawn’s neck as she fought to keep her breathing level. Freaking out wouldn’t help anything, she knew that, and the last thing she wanted was for Queen Elmiria to think her odd behavior was because she was afraid. Thankfully the awkward moment in the courtyard hadn’t been brought up again. 

Actually... _nothing_ had been brought up since they’d gotten inside.  

For someone who’d seemed sure they’d find so much to talk about, Queen Elmiria was being awfully quiet. Not a word had been spoken between them since they’d left the courtyard. While Elmiria didn’t seem to mind the quiet, Dawn couldn’t quite decide if she should be relieved or concerned. 

On one hand, the silence was a good thing. Given that she’d only met her family’s unnerving new houseguest a few minutes prior, Dawn wasn’t overly keen on trying to make conversation with her on her own for an extended period of time. If Elmiria _did_ want to talk, Dawn wasn’t even sure what she’d say—the last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself in front of the Queen like she had outside. 

On the other hand, though, Elmiria’s silence only gave Dawn far too easy an opportunity to focus not on what the Queen had to say, but _what she was_. Even awkward, stilted conversation would be better than listening to how the golden tips on her eight legs made _tinking_ sounds as she walked, like the metallic clinking of Dawn’s trove of necklaces and baubles when she rummaged through her jewelry box. The sound made it impossible to forget Elmiria’s...unique condition, even though Dawn fixed her gaze to her own feet so she wouldn’t stare. 

At least she’d managed to resist outright shuttering at the sound. If nothing else, she counted that as a small victory. 

The sheer size of Elmiria’s spider-body did nothing to calm the young fairy’s nerves. When she’d talked to the Queen outside, the open space around them had been enough to make her size deceiving; it wasn’t until Dawn had been forced to stand right next to her as they walked the enclosed palace halls that she realized Elmiria stood at least a full head taller than her. The span of her legs was so wide that the Queen took up more than half the hallway. The guards who lined the corridor at equal intervals were forced to press themselves against the walls to keep their feet from being stabbed. 

As they approached the fork in the corridor where both Elmiria’s men and the Fairy Kingdom’s soldiers split off to be led to their own rooms down a nearby hall, leaving the princes and the Queen alone, Elmiria still remained quiet. Risking a glance at her for the first time since they’d left the courtyard, Dawn saw that her gaze was fixed dutifully forward, walking with her back straight and head held high. Her expression was not unwelcoming, but serene. Which begged the question: _why_ wasn’t she saying anything? The quiet was starting to drive her crazy! 

Dawn’s shoulders slumped as she tried not to think about the irony of her awkwardness. Minutes ago she’d been literally bouncing with excitement to meet the Queen. But now Dawn couldn’t bring herself to say a word, too worried about offending her or sounding stupid. A huff blew out her nose, frustrated at herself as much as her dad for putting her in this situation. 

_‘You’re acting ridiculous—you’re acting like Marianne, all hung up about Elmiria being different,’_ Dawn chastised herself. _‘You can do this! Just pretend you’re talking to the nobility at the Spring Ball. Dad trusted you with this, and you’re not going to let him down!’_

After so long of walking in awkward silence, any topic of conversation she brought up now would probably sound forced, but that was a risk Dawn had to take. What she needed was small talk; something casual and easy to talk about. Most importantly, she needed a subject that had nothing to do with Elmiria’s lineage, or the fool she’d made of herself in the courtyard. 

More determined than ever, the young princess wracked her brain until, finally, a thought came to her. “So,” Dawn started a bit too loudly, flinching as her own voice shattered the quiet before continuing at a more respectable volume, “how was your flight? Did you have any trouble finding the castle?” 

It took a moment, but when Elmiria looked over at her, she was relieved to see it was with a small smile. “Expectedly pleasant. Interesting, more than anything. Archon and I enjoy flying to new places, but it’s been a long time since we’ve been outside the Vale. Traveling through the Fairy Kingdom was a sight to behold. I must say, from what I’ve seen so far, I’m already rather taken with your kingdom—especially your castle.”

Okay, the castle. Dawn could talk about the castle! The topic allowed the blonde to relax, and she found herself grateful that barely a month ago Gabriel had insisted she read up on the castle’s history. He was a strong believer that royalty should be learned about their kingdom as a whole, including the castle they called home. Reading wasn’t usually something she did in her free time—especially educational reading—but she could never say no to _Gabriel_. Not when he’d looked so handsome that day, with his hair out of its usual ponytail and that excited look in his eye as he talked about the book—

_‘Focus, Dawn. Impress the Queen first, daydream later.’_

Feeling confident she could recite enough facts to make both Gabriel and her instructors proud, Dawn stood a bit straighter, trying to emulate how her father spoke with authority. “The whole castle was built by hand by the very first fairies who found this valley. My family is a direct descendent of them—I think...six? No, seven generations. Before they came here the fairies apparently lived in the trees, but no one knows exactly where. We’ve never been able to find any ruins or anything.” She added on the last bit for a touch of mystery, unable to help feeling proud of herself for remembering that much from such a boring book. 

As she spoke Elmiria’s attention wandered the halls and open doorways, nodding appreciatively. “It’s beautiful,” she replied, violet eyes traveling from the high ceiling down to the gilded windows until they again rested on the princess. Her gaze intensified as she looked the princess up and down—there was a flash in her eyes, gone so quickly that Dawn wasn’t certain it was ever really there. But, for that split second, it had looked like sorrow. 

“Although, if I may be so bold, the most captivating thing I’ve seen in a long time is you in that gown you’re wearing.” 

The compliment came as such a surprise that Dawn nearly stumbled into Elmiria’s legs as a flush rose to her cheeks. Sure, Elmiria had complimented her outside when they’d met, but she’d figured it was just out of polite social constraints. Dawn had long gotten used to flattery; the number of times she’d been called ‘beautiful’ in her life was higher than she had the patience to count. But there was something different about the compliments Elmiria gave. With the servants or the court, Dawn knew their complements came partially from obligation. If someone went especially over the top, they were no doubt trying to impress her or get on her good side, usually to gain influence with the King. 

Dawn could tell that Elmiria was sincere. The tone of her mesmerizing voice was clear and true. She spoke gently and looked straight into Dawn’s eyes, making the words feel so much more personal than when the nobility practically shouted their praises to the entire ballroom, each one trying to upstage the previous. Her words were so open, so heartfelt, rather than overwrought and excessive. Dawn couldn’t help but smile through her lingering nerves, honored and humbled that the Queen thought such things of her.  

Despite the Queen’s sincerity, however, the happiness on Dawn’s features was noticeably absent from Elmiria’s. Instead she studied the blonde at her side with melancholy. The confidence that had radiated off of her since she’d arrived was dampened; her steps were slower, and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

When Elmiria spoke again her voice had softened, “Your name is truly deserved, Princess. Never in my life have I met someone who better encapsulates the glow and splendor of the dawn.” A wistful sigh blew past the Queen’s lips. It wasn’t until Dawn caught her violet eyes lingering on the swishing of her skirt that she understood. 

The giddiness that the Queen’s complements had brought vanished, leaving a hollowness in the young fairy’s chest. The extravagant dresses and billowing skirts that were such a staple of royalty, that packed Dawn’s closet full to bursting—Elmiria could never wear any of them. Suddenly Dawn was grateful the Queen didn’t know how much Marianne despised wearing anything of the sort. 

“That gown only makes you shine even brighter,” Elmiria went on. Composing herself a moment later, she straightened again, clearing her throat as her expression smoothed. “Surely you can imagine how difficult it would be for me to wear...well, anything like that, really. I’ve learned to never regret what I am, but when I see such beauty I can’t help myself.” 

The young princess could barely speak. Her mouth opened and closed in shock, staring openly at the Queen for the first time. But now, in contrast to when they first met, Dawn stared to find all the beautiful qualities that Elmiria didn’t seem to think she possessed. 

The longer she did so, Dawn found that she couldn’t bring herself to look away from the Queen. Ignoring the scuttling legs between them, blue eyes scrutinized Elmiria’s face, suddenly almost captivated now that she was allowing herself to watch her. 

Even with a fine line of discontentment furrowing her brow, Elmiria was stunning. Her eyes glistened like pure amethyst through thick lashes, shining with life and a subtle wisdom that would’ve made even Gabriel jealous. Voluminous black hair framed an elegant face complete with high cheek bones and full, ruby lips, cascading down her long neck and across gracefully sloping shoulders. Smooth skin only half a shade lighter than the black of her hair practically shone in the minimal light of the hallway, rivaling the glossy feathers of her beloved crow. To top it all off, Elmiria had such an air of regality about her as she strode purposely ahead, exuding an aura of royalty that surpassed even King Julian. 

Needless to say, those observations combined left Dawn flabbergasted that Elmiria could possibly not consider herself beautiful. 

“But—...But you _are_ beautiful!” Dawn stammered. “Who cares if you can’t wear skirts? I wish I could be half as elegant as you. You’re so poised and regal, and you carry yourself with so much confidence!” 

One corner of Elmiria’s lips quirked upwards. “I have to be confident, dear child. Your people already fear me because of what I am, no matter how much King Julian might try to play it off. Imagine, though, if I were to hide in the shadows, if I were to cower and be ashamed of my undesirable half. If I think myself to be a monster, how can I expect anyone else to see me as anything different?

“When I was young, the confidence I put out was nothing more than an act. Even if I didn’t truly believe it, I told myself that I was strong and powerful every day so I wouldn’t be seen as weak. But once I’d pretended to believe so for years and years, somewhere along the way, I’d actually started to believe it was the truth. When I looked at myself I no longer saw a hideous deformity,” Elmiria said with a sweeping gesture at her legs. Dawn’s eyes followed the motion as if time had stopped aside from Elmiria’s words, watching in silent awe as the easy, self-assured smile returned to her features. 

“I was finally able to see my body as an advantage. I may not have wings, but I can run as fast as most fairies can fly; I can see perfectly well in pitch darkness; I can move without making a sound, and I can land on my feet from the highest of falls.” Her hands clenched into fists, holding them up between herself and the princess as if holding an imaginary blade. “Pure fairies can only wield two weapons at a time, where I’ve got eight with me wherever I go.”

Seeming to realize herself, Elmiria lowered her arms again with a soft ahem, subduing her previous toothy grin. “The situation I’ve been given hasn’t been easy, but over the years I’ve learned to make the best of what I am. So, yes, I’m confident to a degree. I know that I can handle myself, that I can lead my people and do what’s necessary to give them the life they deserve. But I’m also not blind. This Halfling body of mine may be capable, but I know it will never be beautiful.” 

Before Dawn could even begin to think of a coherent reply, Elmiria suddenly looked stricken, and she let out a strained laugh as one hand absently brushed back her hair, effectively breaking the spell her words had woven. Glancing around, Dawn only then realized that she’d unconsciously stopped them in front of the correct door without even realizing. “Forgive me, Princess, I surely sounded quite childish going on like that. My intention when we began this walk wasn’t to trouble you with my burdens.” The Queen offered a gentle smile. “You’re quite easy to talk to.”

“No, no! No, it’s fine! Really!” Dawn was quick to reassure once she’d snapped out of the trance of Elmiria’s heartfelt tale. Given a million chances, she never would have guessed that beneath Elmiria’s elegance and poise was someone that was so discouraged over how she looked. True, the Queen was a bit...surprising at first glance, but no one should have to feel that way about themselves, Halfling or otherwise! Queen Elmiria was beautiful in so many ways—her Halfling qualities shouldn’t blind her to that. 

Ever so slowly an idea took shape in the princess’s mind. The smile she offered in return to the Queen’s words was sincere, and her eyes glinted with excitement. “I’m glad you told me. And I think I might be able to help.” 

Elmiria quirked a brow. “Oh?”

Dawn grinned even wider, nodding with a shout of, “Yeah!” before instantly flinching at her own volume. The Queen only chuckled. “Um, so, just uh, wait here! I’ll be right back—oh! This is your room, by the way. Here, let me just…” Carefully maneuvering around Elmiria’s legs, Dawn twisted the handle and pushed the door open before moving out of the way. “It’s our best guest room, so. I hope you like it! Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be right back!”

Too excited to simply walk, pink wings spread at Dawn’s back and propelled her down the hallway before the Queen could protest. In mere moments she came to and burst through her own bedroom door, throwing open her closet and delving headfirst into the waiting sea of silk and lace. The princess muttered to herself about complimenting colors and the comfort of different fabrics as she pulled gowns off of hangers, burdening herself with as many as she could carry. The entire back rack of her closet was filled with dresses from last year that had gone out of style, or that she’d worn to events and therefore couldn’t be seen in again, making them the perfect fodder for her experiment. Given the nature of Elmiria’s people, Dawn didn’t think she’d be nearly as concerned with fashion trends. 

With a stack of dresses draped over one arm, the blonde made a quick stop at her vanity, pulling out necklaces and bracelets and brooches that also fit the right criteria. By the time she finished, snatching a pair of scissors from her desk as an afterthought, the princess carried so much that she flew lopsided back to Elmiria’s chamber, relieved to see the door had been left open. 

Although Dawn couldn’t see the Queen’s expression over the armful the carried, she caught her voice a surprised “Oh my” as she dropped her plunder onto the freshly made bed. A few pairs of earrings bounced off of the quilts and landed on the rug. Dawn spun around with a triumphant grin. “If you wanna wear skirts, then you should be able to wear skirts,” she announced, hands defiantly planted on her hips. “Luckily you have me now, and I’m going to find a way to make it happen.”

For a moment after her tirade, the awkward silence from the beginning of their walk returned as Elmiria’s shocked gaze flicked between Dawn and the pile on the bed. Before the princess’s excitement could deflate, however, Elmiria began to laugh, the sound ringing through the air like chiming bells. A lock of black hair fell across her brow as she shook her head. 

“You, my dear princess, are full of surprises.” Elmiria walked over to the bed, running a gentle hand across the pink chiffon dress on top of the pile. “But what a kind heart you have. I wouldn’t want to trouble you, but you seem...rather determined.” Violet eyes met hopeful blue. “Alright then. Let’s see what you can do, shall we?”

~

Two hours and several botched attempts later, Elmiria’s spider abdomen was successfully draped in a pleated swath of midnight blue silk, only a few shades off from the color of her top. No matter how hard she’d tried, Dawn couldn’t yet figure out a way to make the skirt cover her legs as well, but the Queen seemed pleased enough with their current progress, especially since the pleating helped prevent the fabric from bunching oddly between her legs. The lining had been taken from several different gowns and layered underneath the blue to give it volume, while a top layer of sheer purple from yet another dress played beautifully against the dark pallor of her skin. 

Internally Dawn was supremely proud of her draping work, but more than that, she was happy that she could make a difference for Elmiria. The Queen seemed just as surprised that Dawn had managed to figure out a solution. 

Sitting on the floor in front of Elmiria, the princess worked to create the fastenings for the skirt. Unfortunately, given the size of Elmiria’s abdomen, she’d been forced to completely cut one seam of the skirts in order to drape them, and now that they’d been cut, there was no way the two sides would meet well enough to be sewn back together. Instead, Dawn was attempting to use a few of her necklaces to connect the two sides, but fastening the strands to the fabric was proving harder than she’d thought. The princess kept pausing to brush wild golden strands from her eyes, her tongue absently poking through her lips in concentration. 

A sigh from overhead drew Dawn’s attention upward, catching sight of Elmiria fingering the edge of the fabric. Dawn beamed up at her, to which she smiled in return. 

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” the Queen said softly. “I do hope you didn’t ruin anything dear to you for my sake.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dawn assured. Blue eyes dropped again as she fiddled with the strand of silver pearls she held. “A-and if you’re worried, consider it an apology.”

There was a shift above her. “What for, Princess?”

“I—...I judged you, and it wasn’t fair. You were right: I was afraid of you at first, but I didn’t know you then.” Shame wormed its way into her chest, but she made herself keep going. After what she’d done, Dawn needed to set things right. “I didn’t know how nice you were, or what you’ve been through.” Dawn looked up at the Queen again, open and sincere. “I’m sorry.” 

Elmiria’s features softened. “It’s quite alright, darling. My people know we’re strange to outsiders. We expect others to be wary of us, even defensive. As I said before, we know we’re not what you’re used to.” 

“Still!” Dawn exclaimed, although she was quick to rein herself in a moment later. Her arms crossed in front of her chest as she huffed. “It’s not fair that you’re judged like that. It’s like everyone’s turning into Marianne: being all paranoid and judge-y.” 

The Queen’s lips pursed. “Ah, yes, the elder sister. I got the feeling she wasn’t very fond of me.” 

Dawn waved off her concern. “Don’t take it personally—she’s like that with everyone new. Seriously.” The young princess rolled her eyes. “She even gave Sunny a hard time when we first met.”

Violet eyes turned questioning. “Sunny? A friend of yours, I take it?”

“Kinda?” Dawn replied at the end of a shy laugh. Why was she suddenly nervous to talk about her relationship with the Queen? It wasn’t like she was any stranger to inter-species relationships. “He _is_ my friend, yeah, but not just that. We’re, uh...you know. Together.”

When she finally gathered the courage to look up again, Elmiria’s grin was all teeth. “I’d wondered how a ray of sunshine like yourself could possibly be without someone special. If that sister of yours can somehow catch the eye of the Bog King, _you_ must have someone truly special on your arm. I trust I’ll meet him at the banquet?”

“Yeah, definitely!” Dawn assured. “You’ll love him, I know it. He’s so sweet—one of the most caring people I know. He’s always there for me. We went through some crazy stuff with the whole Boggie-Bear Debacle,” the princess went on, unable to help a laugh at how Elmiria’s brows raised at the nickname, “but we’re happy. Sunny actually caused that whole thing with Bog and the love potion that led to the peace between us, but don’t tell him I told you. He’s kinda embarrassed about it.” 

There was a pause where Elmiria simply stared before, “Right. Of course. In that case, I can’t wait to meet him. From the sound of it, we’ll get along splendidly.”

Realizing she’d stopped working while they talked, Dawn refocused on attaching the pearls to Elmiria’s skirt. “I hope so! The only thing is...” she trailed off, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Well...he’s short. Like, really short. All elves are. He’s only this tall on me,” she explained, one hand tapping against her waist. Dawn knew that Sunny scared pretty easily; she didn’t want him to make the same mistake and misjudge Elmiria like everyone else in the Kingdom had. “I just hope he doesn’t do what I did.” Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head against her own worries. “I’ll try to talk to him before the banquet.”

Not wanting Elmiria to start to feel self-conscious again, Dawn was quick to put on a smile, letting out a triumphant “aha!” when the pearls finally caught into the hole she’d made along the edge of the skirt. “I’m getting the hang of this now,” she said confidently, reaching for another necklace of emeralds set in silver. This time the strand threaded neatly into the fabric on her first try. “Anyway, Sunny’s really nice! Even if he’s...nervous at first, he’ll warm up to you. I know it.”

“I do hope so. Whatever would I do if the princess’s love didn’t approve of me?” 

Dawn simply laughed, focusing on finishing the skirt before her legs started to hurt from sitting on the floor. Sifting through the collection of jewelry she’d brought, she selected a turquoise necklace for the final strand, taking a moment to admire the shimmering stones before attaching them as well. “There! All done,” she exclaimed as she hauled herself off the floor. She dusted off her own skirt and nodded at the full-length mirror. “Tell me what you think!”

Elmiria nodded, slowly making her way across the room as though afraid any sudden movement would ruin the new garment. When she caught sight of her reflection the Queen paused, and, much to Dawn’s dismay, her brows furrowed. Dawn’s chest tightened as Elmiria leaned towards the mirror, running her hands over the fabric covering her spider’s abdomen. 

Dawn hurried forward. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? We can use different necklaces for the closures if you want, or I could—” 

But her worried rambling was cut off by Elmiria’s raised hand. “It’s not that. I’m just...unused to it, is all. I’ve never worn anything like this before.”

The blonde’s features became hopeful. “So...you _do_ like it?” The Queen had barely finished nodding before Dawn practically leapt for joy. “Good! See? I knew I’d be able to help.”

“You certainly went beyond my expectations,” Elmiria muttered. “I’ll be honest: I didn’t expect such kindness so soon after arriving here. You truly encapsulate the best of your people.” 

“I just didn’t want you to feel bad about yourself,” Dawn said. “You’re still beautiful even though you’re different from us.” As blue eyes trailed across the pleasantly surprised expression Elmiria wore, Dawn thought that was especially true now that she could hopefully see some of her own beauty.  

The princess stayed quiet to let Elmiria admire herself. After a few moments her expression smoothed back into something more composed, and she turned back around. “You’re far too kind to me, Princess. But thank you.” 

Dawn’s bright grin lit up the room. “You’re welcome.” A moment of silence passed where she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face—until she shifted her weight and nearly slipped on the pile of necklaces she’d left on the floor. Blinking, she laughed sheepishly as she took in the mess their experiments had made of the Queen’s room. “Wow, I, uh, I didn’t realize we’d made such a mess. But don’t worry about it: I’ll clean it up and get out of your hair so you can get some rest.”

“That would be nice,” Elmiria admitted as Dawn stooped to pick up the jewelry. “Although, before you go, I am curious about one thing.” 

“Yeah?”

“You said that Sunny was somehow responsible for your befriending the Bog King?”

Dawn laughed. “Oh yeah, now _that’s_ a great story! It happened like this…”

~

By the time Dawn excused herself from Elmiria’s quarters, the sun had started its downward journey back towards the horizon. She far from intended to spend the entire day talking with the Queen, but considering no one had come to collect her, she figured she hadn’t been missed. For all she knew, her dad had planned for something like this to happen. 

She hated it when he was right. 

Clumsy footsteps echoed down the castle halls as the young princess made her way back to her bedroom, carrying back the armload of dresses and accessories that hadn’t been cut up or broken during their garment experimentation. All the nervousness and worry that had churned in her gut when she’d first met Elmiria was gone. She felt lighter, almost, though whether it was from relief or happiness she wasn’t sure. Elmiria didn’t seem used to people doing nice things for her; the fact that Dawn had managed to cheer her up even in a small way was enough to put a skip in her step despite the burden she carried. 

Until her sister’s familiar voice shouted down the hallway, “There you are!”

Immediately Dawn suppressed a groan. There went her good mood. Although she couldn’t see very well over her armful of clothes, she heard the flapping of Marianne’s wings as she came closer, eventually landing in front of her.

When she spoke again, Dawn could picture the confused look on her face. “What are you doing? This is a weird time to start spring cleaning.”

“I’m not,” Dawn replied with a huff. Untrusting as her sister was towards the Queen, Dawn knew she wouldn’t like what was bound to come out of this conversation. “But I am busy. I don’t want to drop these.” Taking a pointed step to her left, the young princess skirted around her sister only for Marianne to fall into step at her side. 

The brunette let out a sigh. A hand on the younger fairy’s shoulder stopped both of their progress down the hall. “Look, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Blue eyes flicked to her sister’s face, surprised to see it drawn with genuine concern. A single golden brow raised in response. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that. How about because you were forced to spend literally all day with the Spider Queen?”

“I wasn’t _forced_ to do anything.” A pause, then, “Okay, so Dad made me walk her to her room. But it’s not like she held me hostage all day or something. I spent the day with her because I wanted to.” 

Marianne’s answering scoff earned another glance from the blonde. “Right. And you didn’t practically beg me with those big, pouty eyes to save you from having to even walk her to her room. What really happened?”

“Nothing ‘happened!’” Dawn said, her voice rising. Unable to throw her arms up in exasperation, she settled for using one arm to beat down the mound of clothes enough so she could face her sister head-on. Marianne looked surprised at her outburst, but Dawn only allowed herself a moment to take satisfaction from it. “Yeah, I was scared at first, alright? I tried to hide it, but Queen Elmiria saw right through me. But unlike _you_ , I didn’t just blindly accept that my first impression was right. So I _talked_ to her.”

“And? What did she say?”

For a moment Dawn simply stared at her sister, debating whether she should tell her anything at all. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t break Marianne of her suspicions. “Nothing,” she finally said, pulling her shoulder away from the brunette’s grip. “At least nothing I’m sure you want to hear.”

Marianne’s hand dropped to plant firmly on her hip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dawn rolled her eyes and continued down the hall. “C’mon, Marianne, you’ve been against her before she even got here. I’m sure you’d love to hear that she was mean and awful and rude, but I hate to break it to you: that role’s already been filled by _you_. You won’t even give her a chance.”

“Excuse me? Need I remind you who looked like she was gonna pass out when Elmiria first showed up?” Marianne retorted, jerking her thumb over her shoulder in the vague direction of the Queen’s room. “Don’t pretend that you’re so above me when you obviously had doubts too.” 

The blonde’s cheeks puffed in indignation. “Yeah, well, I don’t anymore! I’ve talked to her and she seemed...really nice.” 

Marianne pinned her sister with a deadpan expression. “‘Nice’?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yes, nice!” Suddenly Dawn felt the urge to stick up for the Queen. “She’s not a tyrant, she’s just…” she searched for the right word, internally kicking herself when she couldn’t think of anything better, “misunderstood.”

A derogatory laugh burst from Marianne’s lips. “You can’t be serious.” But Dawn simply stared back at her sister, holding her gaze with a firm set to her lips. Ever so slowly Marianne’s expression fell. “You are. You’re actually serious.” A hand raked through unruly brown hair. The flash of betrayal in Marianne’s eyes was impossible not to notice. “I can’t believe this.”

Watching her sister in such a state, Dawn couldn’t help but sigh. Lacking a free hand to put on her shoulder, she settled for nudging against Marianne’s side. The brunette’s half-hearted glare was ignored. “You’ve got to stop being so paranoid. Every new person you meet isn’t magically out to get you. You were the same way with Bog at first, too, and now look at you! You guys are practically married at this point.”

Marianne jerked as if she’d been struck. “Whoa whoa whoa, how are we at all like we’re—”

“What I’m saying is,” Dawn pointedly cut her off, “that you’ve got to start having a little faith in people. Besides, I trust her. Don’t you trust _my_ judgement?” Silence stretched between them. Marianne simply stared with a raised brow. “Ugh, never mind. Don’t answer that.” 

Marianne sounded none-too-convinced. “Okay, fine, let’s just say that you’re right and Elmiria’s trustworthy. What about her men? They looked like they were going to eat us—and don’t even get me started on the bird.” 

A grimace marred the blonde’s features as she remembered back to that morning. Elmiria’s men _had_ looked pretty intimidating. “It’s not their fault they’re kind of scary looking,” Dawn replied after a moment of thought. “Besides, they expected us to be afraid of them. For all they knew, we could’ve been so freaked out that we attacked them outright, or something else stupid. And even if we hadn’t, the people watching still could have. Can we really blame them for being defensive?”

“That’s what makes me so suspicious,” Marianne countered without missing a beat. “If they were afraid we’d do something like that, why weren’t we just told outright what they were? Elmiria could’ve said in her letter that she and her people were Halflings; if they were worried, why did they surprise us? Why did they want to catch us off guard?”

Dawn’s lips pursed, frustrated that she didn’t really have an answer for that. “Maybe Queen Elmiria thought we wouldn’t agree to see her at all? She probably thought that if we knew, it would scare us off. Regardless,” she continued, cutting off Marianne’s grumbling, “I’m sure there are plenty of reasons why she’d hide it from us, and none of them involve anything bad.” 

Marianne’s arms were crossed now, her expression one of deep thought. Dawn could practically see the gears turning in her head. If Dawn stuck up for Elmiria anymore, her sister’s head very well might explode. 

“I guess that makes sense,” Marianne finally ground out, obviously having difficulty admitting that Dawn’s defense had merit. “Still,” she went on, looking over at Dawn with such genuine concern that the blonde took a startled step back. “Even if we can trust her, I still don’t like the way she looks at you.”

Marianne’s protectiveness was by no means something new, but Dawn was admittedly surprised that a great deal of her sister’s reluctance seemed to be stemming from that protectiveness. Leave it to Marianne to potentially offend a powerful monarch just because she gave Dawn an odd look.

“If it makes you feel better, she didn’t give me any weird looks while we were together.” Looks of envy, maybe, but nothing hostile. 

“It doesn’t really. But good,” the brunette replied with a lopsided smile. But the expression didn’t last long. “I know you and Dad, and everyone else thinks I’m being ridiculous, but I just want to be sure. I want to know we can trust her before we come to any kind of alliance.”

Dawn was quiet for a long while, listening to their collective footsteps bounce gently off the walls. Risking a glance at Marianne out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her expression was tight, her fists clenched a bit too hard around her crossed arms. Brown eyes sparked, obviously conflicted.

Everyone knew that the eldest princess was protective to a fault. If she thought something—or someone—was a threat to the people she cared about, Marianne would move the earth and sky to protect them. She’d proven as much by swooping into the Dark Forest _alone_ just to rescue her sister. 

But in this instance, that desire to protect, the walls she’d built up around her heart, casted Marianne as the bad guy. Deep down Dawn knew Marianne wasn’t being so stubborn because she wanted to dislike the Queen. For Dawn, her short time with the Queen was enough, but earning Marianne’s favor wouldn’t be so simple. 

“I know,” Dawn finally replied as the pair came to a stop in front of the young princess’s bedroom door. “I know you don’t mean to be rude or offensive. A lot of the people are probably having the same doubts as you right now, so I get it. All I’m saying is that you should spend time with her before you condemn her.” 

Instantly Marianne began to protest, but Dawn didn’t give her the chance, “Just give her a day or two. Talk to her, get to know her. Then if you still don’t like her, at least you should have an actual reason by then, instead of basing it on bias.” 

Again Marianne looked conflicted. While at first she’d seemed grateful that Dawn understood her wariness, now her eyes were unsure. Instead of pressing the matter, Dawn simply waited, offering her sister an earnest look while she thought things over. 

Finally the brunette let out a long breath through her nose. She glared at her younger sister, but it was halfhearted at best. “I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try,” she said, rolling her eyes at Dawn’s smile. 

“Tomorrow will be the perfect day for it!” the blonde said happily, turning to her bedroom door and struggling to turn the handle without dropping the stack of dresses. Two attempts later it turned, and Dawn used her shoulder to open the door, pointedly ignoring Marianne’s amused smirk as she followed her inside. “Dad told me he wants to spend tomorrow morning showing Queen Elmiria around the castle and the kingdom, and he wants both of us to come. That’ll be the perfect time to get to know her a little. Nice and casual, and Dad and I will both be there with you. So just give it through tomorrow, okay? After walking around and the banquet, hopefully you’ll have a different opinion.” She paused, considering, before, “Or at least a more open mind.” 

Trailing over to her bed, the young princess dropped her armful on top of the sheets just in time for Marianne to come up behind her and nudge her between the shoulders. Dawn squeaked in surprise, bumping into the edge of her bed. The glare she shot over her shoulder only earned a laugh. “I really hate it when you’re practical, you know. It’s so much easier to be stubborn when you act like a brat.” 

Dawn stuck out her tongue, swatting at Marianne’s arm. “You’re the one who’s always so surprised when I have good ideas. No one ever gives me any credit, it’s so unfair.” 

“Maybe,” Marianne exclaimed, pointing at Dawn as if she’d just had a novel idea, “if you took things a bit more seriously, people would take you more seriously! Imagine that!”

“I’m totally serious!” Dawn protested. “I just like to actually _enjoy_ my life, too. Is that so wrong?” 

The sisters continued their playful banter, their cheerful voices echoing far down the castle halls to where Queen Elmiria’s door was cracked open just enough to hear.


End file.
